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Chapter Text

Sam was not quite certain what was going on, but his current leading theory was that he was waiting to hatch out of an egg after dying and reincarnating.

His evidence for this?

He had been falling in and out of consciousness for an unknown amount of time and he could feel a hard enclosure around him that grew smaller each time he awoke. His body also felt different from a human’s, and it was gradually becoming easier for him to think. Hopefully, the newly born members of his new species would be more capable than a newly born human.

Sam did not want to flop around uselessly for years.

Oh, and he also remembered his death. That was a fairly important piece of evidence.

One of the benefits of his current circumstances was that he had plenty of time to process his emotions while he was incubating. He had already cried and despaired, and even if he hadn’t fully come to terms with his death, he accepted it as something he could not change.

Now, most of his focus was on trying to move his new body and escape his prison, but he had no idea how long it would take for him to hatch. He could tell that he had extra limbs, but it was difficult for him to guess what species he had been reincarnated into.

Sam hoped he was something awesome, like a dragon. Those extra limbs could be wings, right?

While Sam found himself awake, he usually spent his time testing the confines of his prison until he ran out of energy and fell back asleep. It was during the middle of this routine that he felt something prodding at his prison from the outside, causing Sam to feel a thread of panic.

I really hope I’m not about to be eaten by some predator before I could start my dragon adventures.

As his egg was breached and he saw something aside from darkness for the first time in this life, the first thing Sam felt was disappointment that he wasn’t a dragon. He knew he was not a dragon because dragons did not have eight eyes.

The second thing Sam felt was terror because he was being stared at by the hideous face of a giant spiderlike creature.

Sam felt himself freeze in fear as he was lifted from his egg—viscous liquid still dripping from his body—and manipulated back and forth by the giant monster.

After a few moments it seemed as if the creature was satisfied, and it placed Sam down on the floor to move onto another egg. As the creature turned its attention elsewhere, Sam gradually calmed down when it became obvious the monster didn’t intend to eat him.

Looking around, he found himself in a dark cavern filled with large amber-colored eggs that looked to be covered in strange pustules and wreathed in webs. Several other small versions of the spiderlike creature were standing around and also looking around and taking in their surroundings.

Sam looked down at his hands only to have his fears confirmed when he saw that he had three scary-looking claws and an arm that was covered in chitin.

Well… this fucking sucks. Why couldn’t I have been reborn as something other than some kind of ugly spider monster?

He took note of the fact that the other newly born spider monsters seemed to be much more aware of their surroundings than a newly born human would be. Sam was also able to move around with an acceptable amount of dexterity despite not being used to having so many limbs.

Unless all of the other spiderlings were also reincarnated individuals, it seemed that the newly born of this species were intelligent and physically capable from the moment they were born.

Could be worse I guess. If these guys are intelligent then they must have developed some kind of society and I don’t feel mind controlled so they’re probably not some kind of hivemind.

Sam focused on analyzing his surrounding to the best of his ability in order to avoid thinking too hard about his death or his new body. He had done his best to come to terms with his circumstances while he was incubating, but having the harsh reality shoved into his face was not pleasant.

If he was going to reincarnate, Sam would have much preferred to be something humanoid if he couldn’t be a dragon.

Hopefully, these spider folk didn’t follow the standard tropes common to insectoid races in Earth’s fiction. Sam didn’t want to be treated like some kind of disposable cannon fodder.

Thankfully, there were some positive signs in that regard. The spider creature who was continuing to free the young spiderlings from their eggs seemed to be doing so with a significant amount of care.

If Sam was about to be sent to die like an expendable zergling, he doubted the creature would be so careful.

He could see that the adult only had a few more eggs to examine, so Sam decided to use that time to acclimate himself to his new body.

Moving each of his three digits one by one, Sam discovered that his fingers were still flexible despite being encased in chitin.

That was a bit strange, but Sam decided to ignore it. There were so many things about this situation that didn’t make sense that focusing on them would be a useless endeavor.

Sam moved all six of his legs as he walked around in a circle, marveling at how natural his movements felt. Feeling emboldened, he decided to try spinning around in circles, curious as to whether or not his new body could handle it.

A few moments later, Sam was dizzily interrupted by the sound of a skittering sound that drew his attention to the adult spider thing that was looking down at him.

Sam froze and looked back and forth between the adult and a nearby spiderling that had decided to mimic him by spinning in circles. Sam hoped he wouldn’t be eaten for being a bad influence.

He and the adult had a short staring match before the creature made some more skittering noises—noises which Sam was beginning to suspect was a language—and picked him up.

For a moment a part of him believed he was about to die, but the creature simply placed Sam gently down onto its large abdomen. Strange instincts compelled him to hold on to the creature tightly, and he somehow knew that he would have no trouble adhering to the adult.

As soon as Sam was properly situated, the adult spider turned its attention to the rest of the spiderlings. The creature moved its forearms in a strange motion and a moment later its hands seemed to glow in a strange, whitish purple color.

Sam flinched at the sudden and strange feeling of a foreign presence in his mind. The telepathic message did not come in any words that he could understand, but a clear meaning was conveyed regardless.

“Ascend my body, hatchlings.”

The other newborns seemed just as surprised as Sam, but they did not hesitate to obey the adult’s orders. Soon enough, Sam was sharing his mount with eight other baby spider monsters, although he was too busy marveling at the display of magic to notice.

If Sam was given the opportunity to learn magic, it would almost make being reborn as a spider monster worth it.

Sam was pulled out of these thoughts and he turned his focus to holding his grip as the adult suddenly started moving at speeds a giant spider monster should not be allowed to achieve. Very quickly, Sam was carried out of the caverns in which he was born, and he got his first glimpse at the society he had been born into in this life.

Sam found himself being transported through a giant cavern wreathed nearly completely in webs and filled with black and gold structures. These webs reached from the roof of the cavern to its lowest level, allowing members of his new species to quickly skitter in and out of the numerous tunnels connected to the cavern that was larger than Sam could estimate. In addition to the spider people that were skittering around, there were also strange creatures that looked like some unholy combination between a spider and a bat flying through the air in packs.

As the adult carried him through a confusing series of tunnels, Sam was looking at his surroundings, feeling both a sense of awe and growing dread.

Awe, because this completely alien society was one of the most amazing things he had ever seen. Dread, because his surroundings were starting to seem a bit familiar.

Then he was brought into a smaller cavern with what seemed to be an ornate temple built into the wall and connected to the rest of the cavern by a bridge of webs. On either side of the doorway allowing entrance to the temple were two obelisks that floated over some kind of magical rune etched into the floor.

The architecture was like nothing he had ever seen. It most resembled ancient Egyptian or Mesopotamian style architecture except visibly influenced by the presence of magic and the spider folk’s large sizes. The area was illuminated by crystals engraved into the wall that glowed an eerie blue and the structure was built wide and open to allow for the massive spider people to come and go in comfort.

A few of the spider folk were skittering in and out of the temple, but they paid no attention to Sam and his fellow hatchlings or his mount as he was carried inside. He noted with interest that the spider folk inside the temple seemed to be wearing black and red silk robes.

This was in stark contrast to all the other spider folk he had seen before who wore nothing at all.

Eventually, Sam was brought into a room occupied by a spider person with a uniquely strange appearance. While all the other spider folk he had seen before looked like some kind of six-legged spider with two arms and a spiderlike head connected to a humanoid torso, this one was completely different.

It had a spiderlike head that connected to a humanoid torso with four arms with three fingers, each that moved dexterously to cast magic as Sam and his peers were brought further into the room. Its lower half had only four legs, but where the rest of the spider folk looked like centaurs that were longer than they were tall, this one stood up straight to reach a massive height.

The adult spider person Sam was clinging to carefully lowered its body and bowed while saying something in its strange clicking language. The taller one ignored it and finished casting its magic and a violet-colored magical glyph covered the floor of the entire room.

Sam was still staring at the magic in wonder when the spider person he was riding spoke again.

“Hello, hatchlings.”

Sam nearly fell to the ground in surprise, the adhesive properties of his new body’s limbs the only thing keeping him from doing so. Even though the sounds the creature was making did not meaningfully change, this time Sam found he could understand its meaning.

With a quick glance around, he could tell his fellow newborns were similarly surprised.

The creature let out a harsh clicking sound that Sam somehow knew to interpret as laughter.

“That is always amusing. Do not be afraid, hatchlings. The magic of Seer Kuk’ir allows you to understand our language without having learned it. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Custodian Kriltes.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he should respond—or if he even could—but Kriltes continued speaking as if he was not expecting a reply.

“Welcome to Kilah’Kuk, a city belonging to Azjol-Nerub. We are Nerubians. That means little to you now, but you will be taught all of this soon enough,” said Kriltes, unknowingly causing Sam’s growing dread to reach a peak.

“I have brought you to Circle of Viziers for your Naming Ceremony. Seer Kuk’ir has cast a Glyph of Comprehension so you are able to understand the significance of this moment even if you have not yet learned to speak our people's language,” explained Kriltes as he began removing the newly born Nerubians from his body one by one. “Seer Kurk’ir cannot maintain the Glyph indefinitely, so we will begin the ceremony immediately. I have watched and guarded over your eggs, as is my duty, and now I shall name you.”

Sam could not bring himself to pay much attention to the ceremony, despite its apparent importance. The moment he had learned that his new people were called Nerubians, Sam had completely stopped paying attention.

The Nerubians were an insectoid race of sentient spider people in Warcraft, a popular high fantasy franchise created by Blizzard Entertainment. The Warcraft universe primarily focused on Azeroth—a death world that was constantly being devastated by the schemes of multiple Lovecraftian deities and an endless army of planet-destroying demons led by an insane god.

The Nerubians were a race that lived on the Azeroth’s northernmost continent of Northrend. They largely played little role in the world’s history until an orcish shaman by the name of Ner’zhul had his soul mutilated by the second in command of the demons. Ner’zhul’s mortal form was destroyed and he was bound to a cursed sword and helmet, becoming the Lich King.

The Lich King then set out to conquer Northrend and create an army of undead that he could use to attack the rest of Azeroth. The War of the Spider lasted a decade, but in the end, the Nerubians were not able to survive the Lich King's endless aggression and were almost completely slaughtered and turned into undead slaves.

A small portion of Sam’s attention managed to overcome his turmoil and focus on Kriltes as he approached Sam to give him his name.

“I have seen your inquisitive nature, hatchling. The intelligence in your eyes is obvious, even if you have not been hatched for long. Maybe one day you might grow to become a Vizier,” said Kriltes solemnly. “I name you Krivax.”

Kriltes moved on to the next hatchling, leaving the newly named Krivax to come to terms with the fact that he had been reborn into a species fated to be nearly completely destroyed.

Fuck…

Chapter Text

Krivax called on his mana and carefully pushed his intent into a strand of silk threads, desperately hoping that this time he would succeed in infusing the simple spell into the material. Custodian Kriltes had told him that if he wanted to become a Vizier, then this would be good practice.

So far, he was not having much luck.

Krivax clicked his mandibles in frustration as the spell once again failed and the silk fell to pieces. With a sigh, he started the uncomfortable process of creating a new thread with his spinnerets.

It felt… extremely strange, and Krivax didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it.

“Peer Krivax, what motivates you to put so much effort into an exercise that frustrates you?”

Krivax turned his attention to the young nerubian, who was watching his actions with curiosity. It had taken some effort, but he had become fairly proficient in deciphering nerubian expressions.

“You know that it is my goal to serve our people by becoming a Vizier, Peer Masruk. Why do you ask?”

Masruk fidgeted and swayed back and forth in a motion Krivax recognized as a sign of nervousness.

“We were both born in the same cluster of eggs, yet you are so certain of your future path and I am not.”

It’s not like I have many options if I don’t want to become some kind of undead abomination, Krivax mused, with no small amount of frustration.

After learning he had been reborn as a nerubian, Krivax had put a lot of thought into how he could avoid being killed by the Lich King. He had settled on a few different ideas, depending on information he did not currently have, but all of them required him to gain the knowledge and political power of a Vizier.

Still, there’s no point in getting mad at Masruk. It’s a bit comforting to know that young nerubians stress out about picking their future careers as much as humans.

Krivax had been worried at first that his new people were one of those fantasy races that were cartoonishly evil, but instead, they were just isolationist xenophobes. Which… wasn’t great, but at least he didn’t have to worry about being forced to do evil things himself.

“There is no need for you to already be certain of your path, Peer Masruk. Many of our peers also remain uncertain. That is why our elders have arranged for today’s demonstration.”

Nerubian society was not as simple as Krivax had expected. He had assumed that they were like ants, with everyone being born into a role from the moment of their birth and answering to the Queen without question.

Krivax was glad to learn that was not the case.

The nerubians did reproduce through Queens and those Queens did hold a lot of political power, but it was not absolute.

Both the Spiderlords and the Circle of Viziers also held considerable political sway in nerubian society. In hindsight, this was not that surprising, given that the Queen spent a significant amount of time creating new nerubians, during which she was too distracted to rule.

The caste system was another thing Krivax had learned was different from his expectations. Most Spiderlords and Viziers were born and raised for their roles, but there was some room for exceptional baseline nerubians to elevate themselves.

According to Kriltes, it was possible for the Queens to reforge the bodies of those who proved themselves particularly useful to the Kingdom. That had done a lot to motivate Krivax’s fellow hatchlings, the lure of ascending to a higher caste was powerful.

Krivax did not know everything about Warcraft lore, but he was fairly confident nothing like that had existed in the franchise, a fact which made him feel both relief and apprehension.

Relief, because that meant the world he found himself in was more than a video game with contradictory lore and multiple species whose people possessed one-dimensional personalities.

Apprehension, because that meant he couldn’t guarantee that his knowledge was accurate.

What if an important plot point was changed because it was too internally inconsistent to be translated into a real world? At the time that he had died, the Warcraft franchise was nearly thirty years old, after all. There were bound to be plenty of things in the lore that didn’t make sense.

Krivax pushed away his negative thoughts. Ultimately, there was nothing he could do about it other than be mindful of the possibility that his knowledge might be wrong. He already wasted an entire week worrying about the possibility that the Lich King would start conquering Northrend before Krivax could make any preparations.

Eventually, he decided not to worry about things he couldn’t change, which was probably good advice for someone who knew too much for his own good.

“Peer Krivax, the demonstration is about to begin,” said Masruk, pulling Krivax from his wandering thoughts.

Sure enough, a few groups of adult nerubians were skittering into the center of the amphitheater that had been reserved for the Warriors, Weaver, and Viziers to present themselves. They bowed to the group of Custodians, who were sitting in their own section of the amphitheater, before the Warriors stepped forward to present themselves first.

“Hatchlings of Kilah’Kuk, you have worked hard for several months to make yourself fit to serve your people. When your education is complete, Underking Kuk’arak will send where you will benefit our people the most,” said a large armored Nerubian who represented the warriors. “However, your placement will be heavily influenced by both your talents and your interests. I am Warrior Nishalmis, and I am here to explain how you may serve your people as a Warrior.”

His tone was firm and full of conviction as his voice easily carried over the amphitheater.

“The Warriors are the protectors of Kilah’Kuk. We enforce the laws of the city under the direct command of the Underking, and answer to the High King of Azjol-Nerub during times of war.”

Most of this had already been explained to Krivax and his cluster by Kriltes, so he returned part of his focus to his spellweaving. However, he didn’t completely ignore the presentation as the Warrior explained their duties. If you read between the lines, it was possible to learn a lot about a society by paying attention to how they structured their propaganda.

One interesting thing he had learned was that the Warriors were responsible for controlling the city’s Jormungar, which were giant worms nerubians used to carve out tunnels.

Eventually, Nishalmis finished explaining their responsibilities and moved on to the practical demonstration that would allow the Warriors to show off their skills.

Everyone else gave Nishalmis and his sparring partner—another large armored nerubian—room as they moved to the center of the stage. The venue grew completely silent as the two Warriors stood completely still and brandished their spears at one another.

Just when the tension was reaching its peak, Nishalmis moved almost faster than Krivax could track and thrust his spear at the other Warrior. The sound of their weapons colliding sounded like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet amphitheater.

The two warriors traded blows with strength and grace that Krivax felt should not be possible. He could even see small fractures forming in the structure of their makeshift arena.

Both Krivax and the other hatchlings were completely captivated by the display.

Eventually, the unnamed Warrior made a mistake that resulted in Nishalmis disarming him of his weapon. He tried to compensate by stomping on the ground with enough strength to cause a clap of thunder to sound out across the venue and fissures to grow around his feet. The sound and shaking ground caused many of the younger nerubians to stumble or flinch, but Nishalmis easily kept his balance and ended the fight by placing the end of his spear to the Warrior’s neck.

The hatchlings did not cheer or clap—nerubians were generally not prone to such public displays of emotion—but Krivax could tell they were enraptured.

The defeated Warrior surrendered and bowed to Nishalmis, who returned the bow and turned back to face his audience.

“If you wish to protect your people and gain the power I have shown you, listen to your Custodians. They will instruct you on how you can better your chances of becoming a Warrior.”

Krivax distantly noted he had become too distracted and his spellweaving had failed again.

What he had just witnessed was not something that was naturally possible. Of course, arthropods as large as the nerubians were already impossible by the standard of his old world, but regardless, the Warriors had displayed strength far beyond what they should be capable of.

Kriltes had already explained Intuitive Magic to them in great detail, but it was still amazing to see it in person.

Intuitive Magic was the explanation for why people carrying pointy sticks could compete in a world with guns, magic, and spaceships.

Every living being in this world possessed magic. Spellcasters actively transmuted their magic into one of the greater magical forces in the universe and used that magic to achieve their goals. Eventually, their magic became so attuned to one of these forces that using other kinds of magic, while still possible, became significantly more difficult.

On the other hand, Warriors like Nishalmis honed their skills to such a point that they instinctively use their personal magic while fighting. Intuitive magic explained how Warriors were able to accomplish impossible feats of strength, Rogues were able to turn invisible and nonsentient lizards were able to breathe lightning.

If any of Krivax’s peers expressed a desire to become Warriors, then Custodian Kriltes would teach them the appropriate exercises to hone their skills enough to use Intuitive Magic.

Seeing that the Weavers were about to start their presentation, Krivax once again turned his attention to spellweaving. If he managed to attune himself to arcane magic, the Underking would almost certainly assign him to the Viziers.

Feeling a bit motivated, Krivax tuned out the Weavers completely and put his full focus into his spellweaving. The nerubians practiced a form of magic that allowed them to put magic into their silk and then use it at a later time. It was similar in principle to the Rune magic that the vrykuls used.

The Weavers were a group that took care of everything that the Viziers and Warriors didn’t, so Krivax didn’t feel a need to pay attention to them. They did the farming, building, crafting, and general labor for nerubian society. The only reason they were called Weavers was because nerubians used their silk for pretty much every occupation in their society.

There was probably some historical or political explanation as well, but Kriltes only had a general overview of nerubian history.

Krivax was surprised when he successfully infused his intent into the silk thread; this was the farthest he had ever gotten into this exercise.

The next step was for him to transmute his personal magic into arcane and push it into the thread. According to Kriltes, this was the easy part; all he needed to do was focus on his mana and think ‘orderly’ thoughts.

Despite being told that it’d be easy, Krivax was still surprised when his hands glowed with the violet color of arcane magic and the silk thread began to release a white light.

Krivax wanted to jump up and start dancing, but nerubians didn’t do things like that nor was this the appropriate setting. Instead, he stopped the silk from glowing by deactivating the spell, tied it in a particular knot that would help preserve its magic—somehow—and stuck it to his abdomen.

“Congratulation on your success, Peer Krivax,” said Masruk.

“Thank you. Have any of the presentations caught your attention?” Krivax cheerfully asked his fellow spiderling, feeling greatly relieved by his achievement. Succeeding in the exercise meant he was much more likely to attune to arcane magic and be assigned to the Circle of Viziers.

“Yes. I wish to become a Warrior,” Masruk said firmly.

Krivax tilted his head at the certainty in the voice of his… friend? Acquaintance?

“Are you certain, Peer Masruk? The Weavers and Viziers have not yet finished their presentations.”

“Yes. I am certain.”

Krivax watched for him to explain, but instead, Masruk just continued to stare longingly at the group of Warriors.

With a nod, Krivax turned his attention to the Weaver, only to find that they had already finished their speech.

The tall Vizier languidly walked to the center of the amphitheater and silently swept his gaze over the audience. When the Vizier’s gaze reached Krivax, they seemed to pause for a moment before immediately resuming their scan of the crowd, leaving Krivax to wonder if he had imagined the moment.

After the Vizier finished looking over the crowd, they nodded once to themselves and immediately began speaking.

“I am Vizier Malas. Most of you will not meet the requirements to join the Circle of Viziers, but for the few who may, I will explain to you our function in nerubian society,” said the Vizier with obvious disinterest. His bored tone and his disinterested body language made it clear he did not consider this a valuable way to spend his time.

“The majority of the Circle’s members will find themselves handling administrative work for the city. At this point in your education, your designated Custodian has already administered basic lessons on nerubian laws and history,” Malas drawled. He sounded as if he was reciting a rehearsed speech he had given one too many times. “If you demonstrate proficiency in these topics, you may be assigned to become a Vizier.”

“The rest of our organization is dedicated to the acquisition of knowledge in all of its forms.” Malas still looked largely disinterested, but Krivax could hear a glimmer of passion in his voice.

“Whether through the creation of new magics, the discovery of old knowledge, or the study of the lesser races, the Circle of Viziers seeks a greater understanding of the world.“

I'm not really sure why, but I’m getting major Sith vibes from this dude, Krivax thought with a small amount of trepidation. I hope not all the Viziers are like this guy.

“If you seek knowledge and power beyond your imagining, speak to your Custodians and begin walking down the path of magic.”

With a wave of his hand, Malas conjured a fire that flew through the air and circled the audience. Many of the young nerubians cowered when the flame turned into multiple streams of fire that twisted and turned through the crowd before flowing back into Malas’s palm.

In a display that Krivax felt was a bit theatrical, Malas crushed the ball of fire in his palm and began walking away without further comment.

With all the presentations concluded, the Custodians started making their way to their respective clusters of hatchlings.

As he followed Kriltes out of the cavern, Krivax couldn’t help but feel that regardless of how theatrical the Vizier had been, Malas’s display of magic had definitely been highly motivational.

Chapter Text

When Krivax realized he had been reborn into a fictional world as a giant spider person, he expected much more monster-fighting adventures and fewer academic tests. It seems that even in a fantasy world, he wasn’t able to escape test anxiety; though to be fair, Krivax had very little to be anxious about. He was as prepared as he could possibly be for his coming-of-age examinations.

Ceaseless efforts to attune himself to arcane magic had borne fruit and the many late nights he spent studying made him certain he would be sent to the Circle of Viziers. He had completed his basic education in nerubian language, writing, laws, and web weaving now it was time for him to prove his mastery to the academic administrators. He already completed his combat and web weaving examinations, now he only had to finish the written portion and then demonstrate his magic.

Krivax finished scribbling on the silk-woven parchment as he completed the portion of the exam dedicated to Azjol-Nerub’s history and moved on to the portion dedicated to its government.

Azjol-Nerub was nominally an empire that was ruled absolutely by High King Anub’arak, but in practice, political power was fairly decentralized. Considering the empire covered half of Northrend, it was not surprising that regional cities far from the capital held a lot of say in their own affairs. Especially when it took a significant amount of time to travel from one part of the empire to another; portals could only support a limited amount of traffic due to leyline restrictions, after all. This meant that if the capital wished to rule over far-off territories, they would need to delegate power to local governments.

One would think that the nerubian lack of family units would prevent the creation of an aristocratic class, allowing the Spiderlords to hold absolute power over their cities, but this was not the case. The Warriors, Viziers, and the various groups of Weavers all held significant power in nerubian society and frequently acted to protect their own interests.

Of course, the capital had created a legal framework that would allow for them to quickly centralize power during times of war, but Azjol-Nerub had seemingly been in a state of peace for millennia. Nerubians as a people seemed to have little interest in fighting the other races of Northrend. In fact, they seemed to have barely any interest in the surface world at all!

It was deeply vexing to Krivax to discover how absurdly insular the nerubians were. It would make his job much harder.

Krivax reined in his wandering thoughts and refocused on the exam; the test was simple, but he still needed to give it the attention it deserved. He carefully finished the exam, making certain to put great care into writing legibly.

Soon enough, Krivax finished the written portion of the exam and gave his completed parchment to the administrator. Nerubians valued efficiency, and the city wished to assign their newest generation to their positions as quickly as possible, so the administrator immediately started grading the exam the moment he received it.

Kriltes had told him that the Custodians were constantly reporting the progress of the clusters they were responsible for and that most of the administrative work for their designations had already been completed. The examinations were simply a method of verifying the Custodian’s observations, and if no inconsistencies were noticed, then he may be assigned to the Circle of Viziers by the end of the day.

This seemed a bit fast to Krivax, but frankly, he was glad for the expediency.

Even if nerubians matured much faster than humans, three years was a long time for someone who used to be an adult to be saddled with a babysitter. Krivax was looking forward to ditching his Custodian and regaining some semblance of autonomy.

Krivax left the administrator to his work and started making his way to the magic exam. He ignored the administrators he saw who were hastily skittering by and carrying piles of parchments. Today was a busy day for them, and the testing center was a… hive of activity.

Krivax held himself back from snicking at the pun as he entered the testing room. He doubted the proctors would appreciate his levity on such an important day.

“Hatchling Krivax, correct?” asked the administrator responsible for overseeing the test. The room was typical for nerubian architecture, the only distinctive feature being an arcane glyph situated in the center of the room. “Are you prepared to demonstrate your magic?”

Krivax did not enjoy being called a hatchling, but he recognized that it was unavoidable until he was assigned to his position.

“Yes, Administrator. I am prepared to demonstrate the results of my learning.”

The proctor chittered approvingly before speaking. “Good. The arcane glyph will record your demonstration. I will then weave the recording into a web and deliver it to those responsible for your designation. If you are as skillful as your Custodian claims, then I expect your designation to be a simple one.”

Krivax was surprised to hear the proctor’s words. Over the past three years, he had not heard much praise from Kriltes, so to hear his Custodian had spoken well of him to the administrators was unexpected. Perhaps Kriltes had not wanted him to grow arrogant?

Krivax put the matter out of his mind. He had more important things to worry about at the moment.

“Thank you, Administrator. I am glad to know Custodian Kriltes thinks so highly of me. I shall endeavor not to disappoint him.”

“As you should,” said the administrator with noticeable approval. Krivax had found most nerubians reacted well to formality and politeness. “Step into the glyph and demonstrate a basic Illumination spellweaving.”

Spellweaving an Illumination spell into a thread of silk was the exercise young nerubians were taught in order to attune themselves to arcane magic. If he couldn’t do something so simple by now, then there was absolutely no chance he could be assigned to the Circle of Viziers.

With a quickness that spoke of extensive practice, Krivax spun a thread of silk and swiftly infused it with a spell of Illumination, causing the thread of silk to glow brightly. Finished with his spellweaving, Krivax presented his work to the administrator.

After a few moments of inspecting the spell, the administrator nodded his approval.

“Well done. Your next task is to steadily channel arcane magic into your hands and alter the arcane energies between fire and ice.”

“Understood.”

Krivax put away the spell-woven silk to his abdomen and began channeling arcane magic, pushing it into his hand. After he succeeded in attuning himself to arcane magic, the process of calling upon it was as simple as breathing. Learning how to alter that magic between fire and ice had proven much more difficult, however. Thankfully, after a significant amount of practice, he had gotten a hang of it.

Krivax focused on thoughts of heat, energy, movement, and passion as he willed his arcane magic to become fire. Sure enough, a comfortable flame that did nothing to harm him materialized in Krivax’s hands.

“Good. Now ice,” the proctor said after a moment of examination.

Krivax started altering the fire back to arcane without responding to the praise. His proficiency was not yet good enough that he could alter arcane magic without concentration. Once the fire had returned to the familiar violet glow of arcane magic, Krivax started the process of altering it to ice.

He found that ice came to him much easier than fire as he focused on thoughts of cold, lethargy, stillness, and deliberation. A blue glow grew in his palm, and Krivax could feel the temperature of the room noticeably chill.

“Well done. It is rare that a hatchling can alter arcane magic between fire and ice so quickly. Your ice magic is particularly skillful. I am glad to see Custodian Kriltes did not exaggerate your abilities. I suspect deciding where to place you will be an easy decision.”

Krivax bowed to the nerubian and expressed his gratitude.

“Thank you. It is through the guidance of my elders that I have achieved such learning.”

That was not true. He had learned most of his magic through his own efforts. Kriltes had merely given him the right exercises and pointed him in the right direction, but nerubians are a communal people who appreciated open displays of loyalty to the greater nerubian society.

I worked my ass off to learn how to do this. If I wasn’t capable of this much after putting in so much work, then I’d be hopeless.

Krivax did not know exactly how he compared to his peers in magic, but he suspected his talent was either average or slightly above average. The only magic he had encountered so far that came somewhat easily was ice magic. Thankfully, a work ethic brought upon by a constant feeling of impending doom was enough to compensate for talent somewhat. Krivax doubted he would become the next Jaina or Khadgar, but he was still proud of what he had managed to accomplish.

After answering a few questions on magical theory and receiving more compliments, Krivax thanked the proctor and left to meet Kriltes at his cluster's predetermined meeting point. The Custodian was already there waiting, but everyone else besides Masruk had yet to finish their assessments.

“Greetings, Peer Krivax. Congratulations on completing your assessment; I know you are eager to finally join the Circle of Viziers,” said Masruk as Krivax approached the meeting point.

“Thank you, Masruk, but I have not yet been assigned to the Viziers,” Krivax responded fondly. He had not grown close with any of his other cluster mates aside from Masruk. Spending all of his time learning and practicing his magic was not a good way to make friends.

However, while Masruk was a bit stiff and overly formal, he was the only one who had gone out of his way to socialize with Krivax. He found Masruk to be kind and a good friend, so the two of them got along relatively well. It helped that Masruk had decided to become a Warrior and offered to spar with Krivax on occasion.

In a world as violent as Azeroth, it was important for Krivax to learn how to fight with magic, so he agreed without hesitation. While the prospective Warrior defeated Krivax more often than not, at least he was now capable of casting a well-aimed frostbolt while being charged by a giant spider person.

“Your designation to the Circle is nearly guaranteed. I know how hard you have worked for this, Peer Krivax. There is no need for modesty.”

Krivax merely nodded his agreement. What he said was true, after all.

“You have worked hard as well. You will make a good Warrior, Masruk. You are managing to wield your Intuitive Magic more and more skillfully with every passing day. My carapace is still aching from our last spar.”

It was a good thing that nerubians were so hard, especially because they lacked access to widespread healing magic. They had some knowledge of nature magic, but that was mainly limited to accelerating the growth of their farming and forming bonds with jormungar or with nonsapient arachnids.

“Thank you. Would you like to join me in eating while the rest of our cluster finishes their assessments?”

Krivax perked up and agreed eagerly. It had taken him a while to get used to nerubian food, but he’d grown to enjoy it.

After requesting and receiving permission from Kriltes to go get some food, the two of them left the administrative center and traveled to the merchant section of the city. Kilah’kuk did not have a very large merchant class given that many things were provided by the government, but things like food, recreational items, and luxury goods were sold in the merchant section.

Krivax went straight to his favorite vendor, a farmer who created an edible silk thread that he covered in a delicious variety of insects. He offered the vendor a few pieces of copper and received a long string of silk covered in insects.

At first, he had been curious why nerubians traded with copper, but apparently, there was something special about the metal's magical properties that made it very suitable to be used as a currency. The same was true for silver and gold, which were also used as currency by Azjol-Nerub, as well as cobalt in some cases.

Krivax thanked the man and made his way to a cavern covered with giant bioluminescent mushrooms. In his opinion, it was one of the best places in the city and was his favorite place to enjoy a meal.

Krivax enjoyed his meal and made small talk with Masruk while trying to push away his anxious thoughts. He knew that there was no reason for him not to be assigned to the Circle of Viziers, but he couldn’t help but worry that some kind of freak accident would sentence him to a life of farming bugs.

If that were to happen, he didn’t have a backup plan other than running away and hoping for the best. There was simply too much information necessary for his future plans that could only be accessed by members of the Circle.

He didn’t have much time to stew in his anxiety, however, because he was soon interrupted by his Custodian.

“Hatchling Krivax. Your designation has been determined.”

If Krivax still had eyebrows, his Custodian’s words would have caused him to raise them as high as he could. Given his unfortunate lack of human facial features, Krivax settled for clicking his mandibles in confusion.

Already? I knew it could happen pretty quickly, but this seems unusually fast. Has the rest of my cluster even finished yet?

“Vizier Hadix is here to escort you to the Circle of Viziers,” said Kriltes. In the three years Krivax had known him, the Custodian had always been dutiful and stoic, but now he could hear a note of pride in the older nerubian’s tone.

Krivax turned his attention to the entrance of the cavern and noticed a Vizier wearing teal robes and the traditional Vizier headdress, waiting patiently for Krivax to approach him.

Turning to the man who had been responsible for caring for him for the past three years, Krivax bowed deeply in an expression of gratitude. They were not particularly close due to Kriltes going out of his way to avoid forming a parental relationship with his cluster, but he was still due respect.

Unlike Masruk, who he would be keeping in contact with, it was unlikely he would have any reason to meet with Kriltes after he left with the Vizier.

The Custodian nodded at him stoically and after taking a moment to arrange a later meeting with Masruk for them to talk about their designations, Krivax made his way to the waiting Vizier.

The Vizier had a purplish carapace that was not commonly seen in Kilah’kuk, whose residents generally had brownish carapaces. When he spoke, it was obvious from his accent that he had been born in the empire's capital.

“Hmph. Hatchling Krivax, correct? You are the talented young one who requested to be assigned to the surface world research division of the Circle of Viziers?”

“Yes, Vizier Hadix.”

“I see,” Hadix said impassively. He looked over Krivax for several moments before continuing. “If you are as smart as the results of your examination suggest, you are likely wondering why your designation was concluded so swiftly.”

Well… yeah. Kinda want to know why I’m being singled out. I think I’ve done pretty well for myself, but it's not like I’m some kind of magical genius.

“It is as you say, Vizier. I am quite curious.”

“Hmph. Come with me then, Initiate Krivax. I will explain to you the circumstances of your designation and your future role in the Circle.”

Without waiting for a response, Hadix turned and started making his way out of the cavern, obviously expecting to be followed. After making a final glance at his former Custodian and waving farewell to his friend, Krivax followed the Vizier to the next stage of his second life.

Chapter Text

Krivax was filled with a sense of both excitement and trepidation as he followed behind the Vizier. Excitement because he was finally about to reach the goal he’d been working toward for the past three years, and trepidation because things were about to get a lot more serious for him.

Until now, the only thing he could do to further his goal of not becoming a zombie spider was to grow and learn as quickly as he could. There would still be some more research and learning to do after he gained access to the information available to the Circle of Viziers, but after that, it would soon be time for him to start fighting against fate.

Krivax was so preoccupied with such thoughts that he remained in complete silence as he and the Vizier traveled through the city. Thankfully, it seemed like Hadix was not one for small talk either.

Krivax noted with slight discomfort the degree of deference nerubians seemed to afford Hadix as they passed by. It wasn’t exactly surprising given he’d been living as a nerubian for three years and grown to understand their culture, yet such reverence was something he’d always found hard to get used to.

Eventually, the two of them reached their destination, and Krivax got his first look at the Circle of Vizier’s headquarters. He’d already known the Viziers worked in a ziggurat similar in design to Naxxramas, albeit smaller, but it was another thing to see it in person. Now that he could see it with his own eyes, Krivax understood why the Scourge had decided to expropriate the nerubian ziggurats for their own purposes. Even with his budding magical senses, he could immediately tell that the building was absolutely drenched in potent magic.

The building itself was massive by the standards of nerubians. The only reason it was not the biggest building Krivax had ever seen was due to this not being his first life. The ziggurat was wreathed in carefully crafted webs that allowed for Viziers and Initiates alike to skitter easily from floor to floor through its many entrances.

After a moment, he realized that he had stopped to stare at the ziggurat and that Vizier Hadix had continued without him. Krivax hurried to follow the Vizier; he had a feeling Hadix would not be impressed if he managed to get lost on his first day.

Passing by many Initiates—and a few Viziers—going about their business, he struggled to keep track of his surroundings as they passed through a series of confusing hallways. The building was too large, the roof was too tall, and there were too many Initiates skittering about and disappearing into random rooms.

Eventually, Vizier Hadix turned into a hallway that was notably less active than the ones they had passed earlier. Krivax had a feeling that they were reaching their destination.

The farther they traveled, the fewer initiates they passed by and the less rushed they seemed to be. It was rather amusing to watch them startle and try to act busier as Hadix passed by. Soon enough, they reached a room that Krivax assumed to be the Vizier’s office. That was confirmed to him as Hadix closed the door behind them.

Hadix did not immediately start speaking the moment they had their privacy, so Krivax decided to take the opportunity to look around.

Some parts of the room looked like something he would expect from one of his college professors, namely the bookcases lined against the wall and the desk messily covered with various papers. However, the collection of skulls that belonged to various surface world creatures made it hard for him to confuse the Vizier with a harmless college professor.

Krivax felt a bit concerned that he’d seen a troll's skull in the office of his new boss before he’d gotten to chance to see an actual living troll.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? How different they are from us?”

Krivax was brought out of his thoughts by the Vizier’s words. He turned to see Hadix staring at him with a searching gaze.

“Yes, Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax, hurrying to agree. “The creatures of the surface world are very interesting.”

The Vizier’s body language did not change, but somehow, Krivax felt like Hadix was pleased with his answer.

“Hmph. Before I explain the circumstances of your designation and explain your role here, I would like to ask you a question. Why did you request to be assigned to the Surface World Research Division?”

Krivax took a moment to consider his answer. The real reason he had requested to join this division was because it was the best way for him to acquire the information he needed and further his plans.

When he first started to think of ways to avoid dying to the Lich King, the first plan Krivax considered was to run. This plan didn’t last for very long given the problems with it soon became obvious. Even if he were to ignore how difficult it would be to escape Azjol-Nerub in the first place, if he ran, then he would be a giant spider person on a hostile continent with no allies. He would likely end up dead even before the Lich King became an issue.

Krivax then considered making the Lich King someone else's problem by pretending he could see the future. Unfortunately, this plan would have to be relegated to a last-case scenario. If he tried to play himself off as a prophet, they would assume Krivax either possessed some kind of gift with such magic or he was pulling nonsense out of his spinneret. If the leadership had some way of verifying if he was telling the truth about future events, then they would also be able to tell he was lying about how he knew what he knew.

Krivax really did not want to tell anybody the full truth. Not only because he didn’t want to find out if nerubian xenophobia extended to former humans, but also because the information in his head could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands.

After deciding he couldn’t run or pretend to be a prophet, Krivax had moved on to thinking about ways to help the nerubians defeat the Lich King. The problem was, the Lich King had managed to defeat Azjol-Nerub, the Drakkari, and turned many dragons into Frost Wyrms in the lore. Even if Krivax knew about him beforehand, he was still a threat that was hard to plan against.

Eventually, Krivax settled on two possible plans, depending on a few different factors. If the Lich King appeared before Krivax could find a different option, then he would focus his efforts on convincing the nerubians to ally themselves with the trolls or dragons against the Lich King.

This was not his favorite plan for a few different reasons.

Firstly, he didn’t know whether or not he could actually compel such an alliance, even in the face of an existential threat. He had no idea what nerubians wartime politics would look like and the internal politics of the Drakkari and dragons were a complete mystery to him.

Secondly, there was no guarantee they would win, even if they all worked together.

As far as Krivax could tell, since the Lich King was defeated by forces that came from outside of Northrend in the lore, then trying to pull the Alliance into the conflict was the best course of action. He had thought long and hard about how to actually make that happen.

If the nerubians were to learn of the continents south of Northrend, they would likely be very willing to support a colonial expedition, despite their xenophobia. After all, Northrend is not a hospitable land, and the nerubians understand the risks of putting all of their eggs in one basket.

If Azjol-Nerub established contacts with the Eastern Kingdoms, then the Alliance would become aware of the Lich King the moment he popped up. Even if the governments of the continent didn’t offer to help, that contact would still be invaluable to the nerubians.

Not only would they have somewhere they could run in the worst-case scenario, but it would also offer them access to new technologies, magics, and resources.

There was a possibility that Krivax would arrive to the Eastern Kingdoms only to discover that the Alliance did not yet exist, but if that happened then he would have plenty of time to prepare for the future.

However, this plan depended on Krivax being able to prove to the nerubian leadership that other lands besides Northrend both existed and were within their reach.

Krivax did not know for certain whether there was regular travel between Northrend and the Eastern Kingdoms, although, he did think it was likely. He knew there were humans native to Northrend and that the governments of the Eastern Kingdoms were aware Northrend existed, so it was unlikely that contact was completely nonexistent. Even if it was uncommon, Krivax found it extremely likely that there would be some people who traveled to Northrend for either trade, exploration, or research.

So why did Krivax ask to be assigned to the Surface World Research Division?

Well, because it was simply the best place for him to learn about the surface races and gather evidence for the existence of the Eastern Kingdoms. If that failed, then it was also the best place for him to push for an alliance with the other races of Northrend.

Obviously, all of this was not something he could say to Hadix.

“I requested to be assigned to this division because I believe our people may be able to benefit greatly from the surface world, Vizier Hadix.”

“How so?” asked Hadix. While his tone remained even, the focus he directed to Krivax was intense. “Azjol-Nerub is the most advanced civilization in the known world and does not lack resources. What could we have to gain from the surface world?”

“There are many resources that can be found on the surface that may be of use to our people,” said Krivax. He did not know the Vizier’s opinions on the surface world, but it was probably safer to emphasize his desire to help Azjol-Nerub. “The surface world holds countless unknown plants with potentially beneficial alchemical properties. Also, even if those who live on the surface are less advanced, there is still much we could potentially learn from them if only we were willing to talk to one another. Different people mean different magic, ideas, and knowledge of the world that we could use to benefit our people.”

Once Krivax started explaining his point of view, he could not stop himself from speaking passionately on the subject.

It had been extremely frustrating for him to be reborn into such an amazing and fantastical world, only to be completely surrounded by people who possessed absolutely no interest in it. Now he was finally speaking to one of the few people in the city who might share his interest, and he couldn’t hold back the desire to reach out.

A small part of Krivax expected derision for his interest and a large part hoped for commiseration. Instead, he found himself surprised when the Vizier started to chuckle.

“You remind me much of my colleague, Vizier Malas,” said Hadix after he finished laughing. “You seem to share his remarkable enthusiasm to learn more about the surface races. Though I suspect your perspectives are quite different.”

Krivax was thoroughly nonplussed by the comparison. Malas? That creepy dude who showed up to explain the role of the Viziers a few years ago? I would have never guessed that guy studied the surface world.

“Ah. I can see you are familiar with him,” said Hadix, his tone amused. “Were you one of the young Hatchlings fortunate enough to watch my misanthropic colleague try to convince the younger generation to follow in his footsteps?”

Krivax was not sure how to respond to that, but the longer he hesitated, the more Hadix seemed to grow amused.

“Yes, Vizier Hadix,” Krivax said cautiously. “I… had not expected for Vizier Malas to be interested in studying the surface world.”

That guy gave me the vibes of someone who would be more interested in studying void magic in his evil lair.

“Vizier Malas is quite fascinated by the surface races, especially the Drakkari and their magic,” said Hadix. Krivax could feel himself growing eager for a chance to finally meet a nerubian who lacked the disinterest for the other races so prevalent in the rest of their species.

“At first, Malas wanted to see if he could summon a spider Loa from which he could gain power, but he eventually learned that without knowing its name, summoning such a being would be impossible. When his ambitions proved infeasible, he managed to create a regenerative potion by kidnapping lone Drakkari and harvesting them for their magical blood. The Circle was quite impressed.”

Krivax sighed internally as his growing excitement turned to disappointment.

Damn it, I should have known.

“It seems my suspicions about your perspective differing from my colleague were correct,” Hadix said perceptively. “If I were to guess, I would assume you wish to research the other races in a less… antagonistic manner. Correct?”

Krivax held back a wince. He still was not sure what stance the Vizier held towards the other races, but this was not something he could lie about. His tolerance towards other races would eventually become obvious.

“No, Vizier. I believe a cooperative relationship with the other races would offer a chance for us to mutually benefit from each other’s knowledge and strengths. We could teach each other so much about the world, and I find myself… disheartened that my people do not seem to share my opinion.”

After Krivax finished speaking, Vizier Hadix remained silent long enough for him to begin feeling nervous. However, when he did respond, it was not with an admonishment, but rather with a question.

“How much do you know about the historical reasons for Azjol-Nerub’s isolationist policies?”

Krivax found himself surprised. He’d asked Kriltes about those reasons for a long time, but he was never given a satisfactory answer.

“Very little, Vizier. Everyone who I asked simply told me this was the way we had always been.”

“Hmph. That is unsurprising. The Kingdom’s propaganda is extremely effective for the common nerubian,” said Hadix with a hint of disdain. “We of the Circle of Viziers, however, must strive to perceive the world as it truly is, rather than how others wish for us to see it. If you would like to know more about the insular nature of our people, then I suggest you study the Nerubian-Vrykul Wars.”

Krivax was taken aback to be so easily pointed toward explanations that had eluded him for so long, but he was also very grateful.

“Thank you, Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax, bowing to the older nerubian. “I will take your words to heart and study this matter at my earliest convenience.”

“Good,” said Hadix, nodding in approval. “As a member of the Circle of Viziers, you will have access to libraries of information not available to outsiders. You will also have access to the libraries of our Research Division. You are now an adult. There is nobody who will tell you which direction to point your spinneret, so I expect you to spend your time wisely.”

Krivax felt a growing greed for knowledge after hearing the Vizier’s words. Free access to these libraries would offer him a chance to not only advance his plans, but would also allow him to learn more magic.

“I understand. This is not an opportunity that I intend to waste, sir.”

“Hmph. See that you don’t. I had to expend significant political capital to ensure you were assigned to this Division, so I would be quite upset if my investment was wasted.”

“Investment?” Krivax asked with trepidation.

“Correct. Your potential was judged to be quite high. Without my intervention and your stated preference, you would have likely been designated to either the Arcane Research Division or the Lost Knowledge Research Division.”

“My potential is high? I understand my performance was likely better than average, but I don’t feel like I am someone worth fighting for, Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax uncertainly. Had he misjudged his own progress so greatly?

“While your talent in magic is not prodigious, it is significant enough that when paired with your abnormal work ethic, you have succeeded in drawing attention,” Hadix said matter-of-factly.

Krivax felt strange to be described as someone who drew attention; in his previous life, he had been a wholly average individual.

“After learning of a fairly talented hatchling who wished to join my Research Division, I pushed to make certain you would be designated according to your preferences. Most of the Division’s Initiates were designated here against their stated preferences. This is both to your benefit and your detriment.”

Krivax waited for the Vizier to continue talking, but he didn’t, so he decided to respond to the obvious prompt.

“How so, Vizier Hadix?”

“Joining this Division is to your detriment because we are not as prioritized for resources as the other Divisions. It is to your benefit because you shall be the sole recipient of my tutelage. Congratulations. Most Initiates strive to gain the attention of a Vizier for years after their designation.”

Krivax immediately started bowing and expressing his gratitude to the older mage. Personalized instruction would definitely allow him to learn faster than trying to figure everything out on his own.

“Enough, your gratitude is unnecessary. If you wish to thank me, then work hard to ensure my efforts are not wasted on you. Your performance and future contributions will reflect on both myself and this Division, so I expect much. If you fail to live up to your potential, then you will be relegated to performing administrative duties for the rest of your time here.”

That would suck. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in a fantasy world as a low-level bureaucrat.

“I will work hard to prove myself worthy of your attention, Vizier Hadix.”

“Yes. You will,” said Hadix sternly. “If you do not, then any ambitions you might have will fade away. In return for good performance, I shall allow you to pursue your goals in regard to the surface races, and perhaps aid you. Without my assistance, it is doubtful you would succeed in securing permission to go to the surface or contact the other races. I confess, it seems unlikely to me that your efforts will result in significant benefits for our people, but it is a good enough research project for a young Initiate.”

Krivax did not know how to respond to the Vizier’s speech, so he fell back on bowing and polite gratitude. Over the hour, Hadix would detail his expectations to Krivax in great detail. The Vizier would only allow him to go to the Surface after he gained a certain amount of proficiency in magic and proved himself capable of protecting himself. Apparently, he would also be expected to learn some skills that could benefit Kilah’Kuk.

Members of the Circle of Viziers were expected to perform tasks that required skilled magic such as alchemy, enchanting, or complex magical silk crafting. It made sense to Krivax; if the Circle was not expected to do such things, then they would likely spend all of their time researching esoteric magics that would fail to justify their funding. Krivax was not certain which of these skills he would focus on—likely whichever took up the least amount of his time—but Hadix assured him that he did not need to choose immediately.

Eventually, they finished their talk and Krivax felt optimistic as he left the Vizier's office to go find whichever administrator was in charge of distributing supplies to the newly joined Initiates. Vizier Hadix’s assistance—as conditional as it may be on Krivax’s continued success—would make many things easier. Not only that, but while the Vizier did not seem particularly enthusiastic about Krivax’s goal of establishing communication with the Surface races, he did not seem to be derisive or dismissive either.

It felt… nice for Krivax to have someone who would support him, even if that support came from selfish intentions.

Looks like things are looking up for me.

Chapter Text

Krivax was glad Hadix had given him permission to access the Circle’s historical records because reading about the Nerubian-Vrykul Wars was genuinely fascinating.

Millenia ago, when the nerubians were not quite so isolationist and the vrykul still roamed the continent, skirmishes between the two races were common.

The first war lasted for several years and started when Azjol-Nerub began expanding into vrykul territory. The nerubians leveraged their superior mobility and ability to navigate underground to harass vrykul settlements before their Warriors could respond. The vrykul were superior Warriors in a straightforward fight, and they had tamed powerful proto-dragons, but that mattered little when confronted with nerubian guerrilla tactics.

Several times the vrykul managed to cleverly ambush nerubian forces and strike solid blows against Azjol-Nerub, but with their farms burned, their craftsmen killed in their sleep, and their civilian population living in fear, it seemed as if they would lose the war.

However, that began to change when the vrykul runeseers managed to develop magic that would allow them to map the tunnels that the nerubians used to navigate their territory. From that point on, the vrykul managed to ambush nerubian forces with far greater frequency, yet they still lacked the ability to directly attack nerubian strongholds.

Every time the vrykul Warriors would attempt to enter the tunnels and take the fight to their enemies, the nerubians would simply collapse the tunnels and quickly dig new ones with their jormungar. This, combined with the damage they had already taken meant the vrykul were still likely to lose the war.

Fortunately for the vrykul, the tides of war changed in their favor when Magnar Icebreaker discovered he could find the weak points in glacier walls and use his vrykul strength to dig tunnels directly into nerubian strongholds.

At the time, Azjol-Nerub’s military was almost exclusively centered around defeating their enemies through the use of superior mobility and hit-and-run tactics. When that advantage was lost, they hardly stood a chance against the superior combat forces of the vrykul.

The first Nerubian-Vrykul War lasted several more years, but Azjol-Nerub eventually saw that they would not be able to win the war without reforming their military doctrine, so they retreated to the safety of their underground kingdom.

For the nerubians, who believed themselves to be the greatest species in the world, this was a humiliating defeat that had immense political consequences.

The High King of the time, Anub’Zikith, lost much of his popularity with the various Underkings, Queens, and political factions throughout the kingdom. Reading between the lines, it was obvious to Krivax that Anub’Zikith only managed to hold on to power by purging his political enemies and promising a renewed war with the vrykul.

The High King whipped up Azjol-Nerub into a jingoistic zeal and focused the nerubians on reshaping their military into one that could defeat the vrykul. Interestingly, these efforts are how some of the nerubian Flyers and nerubian Skitterers managed to gain their sapience.

When the leaders of Azjol-Nerub realized they needed to develop the capability to fight their enemies in head-on engagements, they struggled to find a way to do so. Simply put, the vrykul Warriors outclassed the nerubian Warriors to a tremendous degree. After all, the vrykul spent their entire lives cultivating their strength and learning how to become better Warriors. The only Warriors amongst the nerubians who could stand toe-to-toe with the vrykul were the Spiderlords.

Understanding that they could not overcome their enemies with quality, the leaders of Azjol-Nerub instead decided to overwhelm the vrykul with quantity, a tactic their people were well suited for.

However, a problem quickly arose.

While the Queens could produce large numbers of nerubians, and those newly born nerubians were able to be trained to an acceptable level within only a few years, they still could not sustain a swarm capable of overwhelming the vrykul.

The reason for this was simply that they did not have enough food.

A baseline nerubian had significantly more body mass than a human and required more food to sustain themself as a result.

Azjol-Nerub was able to sustain a large population due to careful planning and the use of magic to significantly increase the amount of food they could produce.

In order to overcome these limitations, High King Anub’Zikith directed the Queens to create a new caste of nerubians that could be both produced in large numbers and required less substance. This was a difficult task for the Queens, given the nerubians they created still required a proportional amount of energy to sustain their biomass.

Their efforts were mostly fruitless until Queen Zilnara the Fleshwarper stumbled upon a method to modify the nerubian Flyers and Skitterers in ways that allowed them to subsist partially on magic.

Previously, these templates of nerubians had limited intelligence and were generally used for repetitive menial labor. However, after Zilnara’s modifications, these nerubians could be produced in large enough numbers to be useful to Azjol-Nerub’s military.

While Intuitive Magic allowed the vrykul to rely on the quality of their Warriors to fight back the nerubians, the large quantity of nerubians that the Queens could now produce would prove to have a quality of its own.

The only problems Azjol-Nerub faced in integrating the nerubian Skitterers and Flyers into their military were due to their lack of intelligence. While the more intelligent castes of nerubians were capable of controlling their less intelligent brethren, the non-sapient nerubians simply weren’t smart enough to execute complex battlefield maneuvers.

Fortunately, the problem was easily solved by the Queens granting sapience to the most capable members of the caste.

The newly sapient Flyers and Skitterers were not only very capable of controlling and directing the rest of their caste, but they also developed a form of Intuitive Magic that increased their strength while leading a swarm.

With this, Azjol-Nerub succeeded in forming an army that consisted of large swarms of Nerubian Flyers and Skitteres, arachnathids, and baseline nerubian Warriors. The army would quickly overwhelm their enemies with their numerical superiority while the traditional nerubian forces focused on ambushing vulnerable targets.

After reforming their military, Azjol-Nerub might have succeeded in defeating the vrykul in the second Nerubian-Vrykul War, if they hadn’t made a fatal mistake.

For reasons that remained unexplained in the historical records, High King Anub’Zikith made the extremely foolish decision to attempt an assault on Ulduar with the intention of stealing its secrets.

In a single day, a large section of the army that had been painstakingly prepared by Azjol-Nerub was destroyed by Ulduar’s defenses, and the vrykul immediately took advantage.

Despite losing a large portion of their forces, the second Nerubian-Vrykul War lasted for many years as the nerubian Flyers and Skitterers proved their worth. Powerful vrykul Warriors would find themselves covered in innumerable Skitters and proto-dragons would fall from the sky as Flyers webbed their wings.

Unfortunately for Azjol-Nerub, however, their efforts were made futile when Magnar Icebreaker entered the war with a large host of powerful vrykul Warriors.

By then, Magnar was a legend to both the nerubians and the vrykul which meant that the resulting shift in morale became a death sentence for Azjol-Nerub’s war effort.

The nerubians suffered a series of humiliating defeats against Magnar that forced them to once again retreat to their underground sanctuaries, except this time the High King did not survive his failure.

Anub’Zikith was immediately deposed and his successor instituted a series of isolationist reforms and propaganda campaigns that served as the basis for their current insular policy.

For many centuries, nerubians were completely banned from leaving the underground kingdom and all mention of Ulduar was purged from the records. The only reason Krivax knew that the location they had attacked was Ulduar, was because of his meta-knowledge. In the records, the location Anub’Zikith decided to attack is only referred to as a “place of forbidden knowledge and artifacts.”

Reading Azjol-Nerub’s propaganda was almost as interesting as reading about the war. It boggles the mind how the kingdom’s leaders were able to successfully paint the surface simultaneously as a land of existential danger and pathetic life forms unworthy of consideration.

Though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, back on Earth lots of regimes were not shy about painting their enemies as both weak and a grave danger, Krivax mused as he put away the historical documents Hadix had given him. I suppose I should just try to be grateful they’ve eased up on their isolationism enough for Hadix to get me permission to travel to the surface.

For the past few months, Krivax had been studying as hard as possible to reach the requirements Vizier Hadix said he needed to reach before he would be allowed to seek out the surface races.

While Krivax was a bit annoyed, he was still grateful he only needed to convince one Vizier rather than the city’s government.

Krivax spent the next few minutes reading the Tome of Introductory Spatial Magic that Hadix assigned him to study before he was interrupted by a loud sound coming from his chest.

Flinching at the sudden noise, Krivax looked down to see the web he’d infused with a time-delayed alarm spell glowing brightly and releasing the noisy ringing sound.

Crap! I forgot about my spar with Masruk!

His friend was generally very understanding whenever Krivax lost track of time while studying, but it still made him feel bad to leave Masruk waiting.

Quickly donning the silk robes given to all new Initiates of the Circle—it felt really nice to be able to wear clothes again—Krivax left his assigned room and made his way out of the ziggurat.

The distance between the Warrior’s training yard and the Circle of Viziers was quite large, but Krivax had set his alarm to give him enough time to travel there.

Fortunately, he was recognized and quickly let in by the armored guard when he reached the Warrior’s headquarters. Unlike the Circle’s ziggurat, the Warriors resided in a part of a city that differed from the rest of the city only in its military nature.

Ignoring the armored Warriors glancing at him and his robes in curiosity, Krivax swiftly made his way to the training yard.

Thankfully, he knew where he was going, and once he reached there Masruk was easy to find.

Krivax watched as his friend practiced spear exercises, slightly surprised at how much faster his movements had become since their last meeting. Masruk spent most of his time practicing, and it showed.

Seeing no reason to delay, Krivax skittered past the other training Warriors and greeted his friend.

“Hello, Masruk. I wasn’t late for our meeting this time,” Krivax said cheerfully. After devoting most of his time to learning so he could travel to the surface as quickly as possible, he started to really look forward to his occasional spars with Masruk.

It was nice to have an excuse he could use to socialize with his friend while also training. Most members of the Circle lacked any combat training, but Hadix insisted Krivax needed to learn how to fight if he wanted to go to the surface. As a result, Krivax decided the best way to accomplish this was by frequently sparring with Masruk.

He wasn’t complaining, Azeroth was too dangerous for him to remain helpless.

Apparently, Masruk had not noticed him, because his expression was one of clear surprise when he stopped his training and turned to look at Krivax.

“Krivax, I was not expecting you so soon,” said Masruk. Krivax couldn’t help but feel pleased that his friend had finally stopped addressing him formally, it took some convincing to get him to stop calling him “Peer” or “Initiate” after they started meeting again. “Usually you would not arrive for another half hour.”

“I know. I felt bad about always being late so I asked Vizier Hadix to teach me a spell I could use to alert me at a specified time.”

Masruk merely nodded his understanding, he was not one to care about spells or magic unless it was related to combat.

“Good. Then we have more time to spar.”

Krivax snorted in amusement and moved to take his place in one of the nearby wide-open areas set aside for spars without comment. He knew from experience that Masruk would not be able to focus on socializing until they both finished their spar.

Once he was ready, Krivax turned to face Masruk—who stood on the other side of the sparring area—and indicated his readiness.

Masruk took on a ready stance, pointing his spear in Krivax’s direction and preparing to charge while Krivax prepared to start casting as soon as the spar began. They both knew they would need to use every second wisely.

Sadly, they didn’t have a referee so they would need to use their own judgment on when to start.

After a few tense moments of staring at each other, Masruk suddenly began charging as quickly as he could and Krivax started to cast a Frostbolt.

Krivax was aware that he had very little time to cast magic before Masruk reached and quickly subdued him, but thankfully he was not without options.

As Masruk charged at him with blisteringly quick speeds and swung his blunted blade at Krivax’s side, three things happened simultaneously.

First, Krivax finished casting his Frostbolt, sending a projectile of frost into Masruk’s side. The spell did not create any actual ice, but the frost magic carried a kinetic portion that caused Masruk to stagger.

Second, a long string of silk was shot from Krivax’s spinneret into one of the nearby walls, which he promptly used to pull himself away from the Warrior.

Third, Krivax threw a ball of silk—one which he’d imbued with a spell through spellweaving before the fight—at Masruk.

Well, calling it a spell might be too generous.

While spellweaving was powerful, it was a complex magical art that didn’t just allow him to store whatever spell he wanted and use it whenever he felt like it. Learning how to weave a spell into his silk was almost as difficult as learning the spell in the first place. Krivax simply didn’t have enough for that given his other obligations.

But even if he could, the mana infused into the silk would not recuperate until the spell was unleashed. If that weren’t the case then the Viziers would have already taken over the world by machine-gunning out Pyroblasts at everything in their way.

Fortunately, throwing a bunch of arcane energy into a strand of silk and crushing it into a ball was both cheap in terms of mana and rather simple.

As Krivax was pulled towards the wall, the ball of silk attached itself to Masruk’s side. Even as he started to cast his next Frostbolt, Krivax willed the arcane energy in the silk ball to release itself, causing Masruk to be knocked down by the improvised arcane missile.

There was a limit to how much arcane magic he could stuff inside of a silk ball safely, and that limit was actually rather small. Thankfully, while his arcane silk bomb was a bit weak, it was still enough to knock Masruk over given he’d already been pushed off balance by the Frostbolt.

Krivax ruthlessly fired a second Frostbolt at his friend while he was knocked down and started casting another.

Even though he currently held the advantage in the spar due to his trick, Krivax knew he could still lose the fight. Masruk could take a lot of punishment before being forced to yield and Krivax was now backed against the wall, meaning he could not use his silk to run away again.

He’d not yet learned many spells he could cast while moving, so was forced to stand his ground and continue throwing Frostbolts.

The second Frostbolt hit, but Masruk merely grunted, picked himself off the ground, and started charging Krivax for the second time, albeit with less speed due to the Frostbolt’s slowing effect.

When the third hit, Masruk was visibly straining himself not to concede, but still he charged.

Krivax was impressed, while they were both obviously holding back since this was a friendly spar, three Frostbolts at that strength would have been enough to force a concession the last time they met. It was good to see his friend improve himself.

Just as he was about to cast the fourth and hopefully final Frostbolt, he was surprised to find his concentration interrupted as a rock crashed into his chest. The rock was not enough to actually injure him, but it did succeed in slowing down his casting.

With a burst of speed he should not be capable of after tanking three Frostbolts, Masruk quickly closed the distance and swung his spear into Krivax’s side.

Krivax winced but didn’t panic. Normally, such a blow would fully interrupt his spell and decide the result of the spar, but this time he had a trick up his sleeve.

Instead of his casting being interrupted when the blunted blade struck him an icy barrier materialized and absorbed a portion of the blow’s strength.

Krivax could see Masruk’s surprise as he finished casting the fourth Frostbolt directly into his chest.

He was also sure Masruk could see the surprise in Krivax’s eyes when that failed to end the spar.

For a moment, he worried that his friend was continuing the spar past a safe point out of a desire for victory, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Masruk was far too honest and cared too much about the safety of those around him to allow a friendly spar to become unsafe.

From there, the fight devolved into Krivax scrambling—and failing—to fight off a fully armored Warrior in melee range. Imagine how surprised he was when a lucky blast of unrefined arcane magic to the face actually resulted in Masruk conceding.

The two young nerubians spent the next few minutes catching their breath and hydrating in companionable silence. Not for the first time, Krivax wondered how the nerubian cardiovascular system functioned and how his body managed to not overheat without sweat glands.

After a moment, Krivax dismissed the matter as magical bullshit, like the rest of his body’s oddities.

Once the two of them caught their breath, they started to discuss the details of the spar and give each other advice. Krivax curiously asked his friend how he was able to withstand so many Frostbolts.

Apparently, one of Masruk’s teachers taught him how to use his Intuitive Magic to dampen incoming damage.

Masruk, don’t you know that using multiple specs is too overpowered?

Krivax had no room to complain, however. He was perfectly capable of using ice, fire, and arcane spells, even if he did favor ice.

Masruk then asked him about the Ice Barrier spell, and he explained that Vizier Hadix had insisted that he learn it.

“Krivax, what drives you to learn magic with such fervor? You have explained to me that your mentor requires this of you, but you have not shared your goals.”

Krivax shifted nervously as he considered his friend’s question. Until now, Masruk had never outright asked about his future goals and Krivax had never volunteered the information.

He would be… disappointed if his friend shared the xenophobic attitude of the rest of their people. However, he knew this wasn’t something he could hide forever, so it was best to just rip off the bandaid.

“Well, you know that I asked to be designated to the Surface World Research Division, right? I want to connect our people to the other races that live in this world because I really believe we can all benefit a lot from dialogue and cooperation. A lot of our people consider the other races primitive and unworthy of attention, but I want to change that kind of thinking”

Masruk was quiet as he processed his friend’s words. He was aware that other kinds of people existed, but he had never put much thought into them. Unless they were a threat to his home, then why should he care about them?

His friend’s interests seemed strange to him, but Krivax had always had a different perspective compared to the rest of their cluster. Masruk had long grown used to his friend's eccentricities, so he would try to show interest in Krivax’s passions.

“These other races. Do they have strong Warriors?”

When he heard Masruk’s question, Krivax couldn’t help but chuckle in surprise and relief.

“Well, I think they should. I don’t know for certain, but neither does anybody else. Seems like something worth figuring out, no?”

Krivax tried to persuade his friend to be interested in the world outside of Azjol-Nerub with stories about dragons, the Drakkari’s Loa, and foreign magic, but it was only when he started talking about the vrykul that Masruk became visibly interested.

“These vrykul, they are powerful Warriors who all went to sleep? They defeated us in a war?”

The nerubians were aware of the slumbering vrykul and generally did their best to stay away from their resting grounds. Even after many millennia, Azjol-Nerub was not interested in a third Nerubian-Vrykul War after how poorly the first two went.

“Yes, they’re very strong. They even forced the kingdom to change its military doctrine,” Krivax said excitedly. Even if their interests were a bit different, it was nice to see Masruk curious about something outside of Azjol-Nerub.

Eventually, after exhausting his knowledge about the documented feats of strength displayed by vrykul Warriors and then explaining what he knew about Drakkari Warriors, Masruk made a surprising announcement.

“I will join you when you go to the surface,” said Masruk.

“Why?” Krivax asked, befuddled. “You’ve never expressed an interest in the surface before today, why would you want to go there now?”

“The surface seems unexpectedly dangerous. If I go with you to the surface world, not only will I be able to meet the Warriors of the other races and see their skill with my own eyes, but I will also be able to protect you from these threats.”

Krivax was not quite sure how to react. Nerubians did not often express concern for one another, so he was touched by Masruk’s worry. He was not certain if Hadix would agree to allow Masruk to accompany him to the surface, but it shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

Over the long years of peace, the Viziers had accumulated significantly more political power compared to the Warriors. Assigning a relatively unimportant Warrior like Masruk to protect Krivax on the surface should not be too much of an issue.

“Really? I’m touched. Thank you, Masruk. I will be much safer on the surface if I am accompanied by Masruk, Defender of the Weak.”

“For some reason, I feel like you are mocking me,” Masruk said evenly.

“Why would you think that? Anyone with sense would feel safer in the presence of Masruk, Guardian of the Helpless.”

“Given you are indeed weak and flimsy, I feel like these titles are appropriate.”

Krivax and Masruk spent the rest of their meeting bantering and catching each other up with their respective training.

When Krivax left to return to his studies, he felt a little more eager to finally finish his training. He was very close to fulfilling the requirements Vizier Hadix set out for him to be permitted to travel to the surface.

Krivax was already motivated to learn as quickly as possible by the threat of the Lich King, but now that his friend wished to join him, he was feeling even more impatient to finally set foot outside the underground kingdom for the first time.

I wonder how Masruk will react when he sees the sky.

Chapter Text

Krivax focused every bit of willpower he possessed into maintaining the Ice Barrier between him and the steady onslaught of incoming Arcane Missiles.

Vizier Hadix had already evaluated his comprehension of magical theory, general surface world knowledge, and combat. Thankfully, he’d met the Vizier’s standards in all these topics. After Hadix decides his Ice Barrier is sufficiently durable, then there is only one more thing he needs to do before Hadix would allow him to go to the surface.

That’s if my Ice Barrier is actually good enough. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold this for much longer.

Krivax channeled as much arcane magic as he could handle into his barrier while simultaneously altering it into ice.

His pride was more than a little hurt by the bored expression on Hadix’s face as he casually cast Arcane Missile after Arcane Missile without pause. Krivax could feel the confidence he’d gained since joining the Circle diminish with every lazily cast spell he struggled to defend against.

Finally, the barrage proved too much and Krivax let out a shocked cry as the Ice Barrier shattered to pieces. Fortunately, the Arcane Missile he half expected to smash into his face never came.

“Adequate,” said Hadix, lowering the single hand he’d previously been using to cast. “Protective magics are the singularly most important kind of magic for any Mage who expects to find themselves in a combat situation. Your Ice Barrier is sufficiently powerful to ensure you do not die the moment you reach the surface. I am now confident the resources I’ve invested in you will not be needlessly wasted.”

Krivax took a moment to catch his breath before responding.

“Thank you, Vizier,” said Krivax, bowing to the older nerubian. “I am grateful for the opportunities I have been granted and I will strive to prove myself worthy of these privileges.”

Even if Hadix only favored him with the intention of furthering his own interests, the Vizier’s assistance had been invaluable to Krivax. There was no way he would have been able to learn as much as he had in such a short amount of time without his help. Both personal instruction and access to otherwise inaccessible stores of knowledge—combined with constant studying—placed Krivax far ahead of where he would be without the Vizier’s assistance.

“Hmph. We shall see. Now that you have demonstrated your capacity to survive on the surface, you will now explain your plans and intended goals. Which of the surface races do you intend to approach, how shall you gain their trust, and what do you intend to gain from this endeavor?”

“I intend to approach the Tuskarr, Vizier Hadix,” Krivax said with confidence.

He knew Hadix was likely already aware of his choice since Krivax had spent much of his time trying to learn the Tuskarr language. It was fortunate that several centuries ago, a member of the Surface World Research Division had grown curious enough about the walrus people to study them. Sadly, she eventually lost interest in the Tuskarr and turned her attention to other research projects.

“Be sure to remember the limited lifespans of the other races, Initiate. It is likely their language has changed notably since our Division last researched the creatures,” lectured Hadix, confirming that he was keeping track of Krivax’s studies. While the lifespan of a baseline nerubian was only as long as the lifespan of a human, the Viziers, Spiderlords, and Queens could all live for a few millennia.

Krivax did not believe the language would have drifted too much over the past few centuries. His difficulties in communication would more than likely stem from simply not knowing enough of the language. Thankfully, while translation spells were far too advanced for Krivax to learn at his current skill level, Hadix had been kind enough to offer his assistance. The Vizier had promised to give him an artifact that would be capable of translating his intentions, even if the specific meaning were unable to pass the language barrier.

“Given you are able to properly communicate with the Tuskarr, how will you gain their trust? It has been noted over the years that many of the surface races find our appearance to be… intimidating.”

Well, yeah. I think anyone with sense would be terrified if they saw a giant spider person.

“It was noted by the most recent Vizier to study the Tuskarr that their culture holds a particular reverence for the concept of fishing. When I approach them, I intend to offer a fish as a sign of good faith,” said Krivax. When he said the word fishing, he used the Tuskarr word for the concept, because the nerubian language did not have its own equivalent.

“Fishing?” Hadix questioned, pronouncing the foreign word perfectly on his first try. Damned centuries-old wizards and their absurd intelligence.

“It is a Tuskarr word describing the act of hunting aquatic creatures, primarily for sustenance, but it is also an action that holds great significance in their culture,” Krivax explained.

The nerubians’ underground kingdom did have access to water sources below the ground that were large enough to sustain their people—along with caverns with high humidity that specially made webs were placed in to collect condensed water—but fish and other aquatic life were much less plentiful than on the surface.

The closest approximation the nerubians had for fishing was a small community of Weavers that used silk webs to catch the occasional fish that flowed into their underground rivers.

Krivax had only learned of these fishing nerubians because he specifically looked for them after learning of the Tuskarrs’ traditions. However, even they did not have a word for what they were doing as it was simply a hobby that did not produce nearly enough food to become its own industry. The fish served more as a rare luxury dish only the fishing Weavers occasionally enjoyed.

Thankfully, the fishing Weavers had been willing to teach Krivax how to weave their special silk nets. He hoped it would be enough for him to catch a fish that could impress the Tuskarr.

“Hmph. Very well. Your reasoning is sound,” said Hadix. “Why have you chosen to target the Tuskarr specifically, and what do you hope to gain from them?”

Truthfully, Krivax had chosen the Tuskarr because their maritime traditions made them the race most likely to be aware of travel between Northrend and the Eastern Kingdoms, aside from the local humans that is. Unfortunately, the Surface World Research Division had very little information about humans.

After all, very few nerubians would be interested in studying a species whose name was a combination of the nerubian words for “vrykul” and “birth defect.”

The nerubians were aware that there were humans living in both Grizzly Hills and the Dragonblight, however, their societies seemed to be rather underdeveloped and disunified.

Krivax couldn’t share his true motivations with the Vizier, so he would have to rely on an approximation of the truth.

“The Tuskarr are noted to be a semi-nomadic people who are most accustomed to environments dissimilar to our own,” said Krivax. “They are the race most likely to expand our knowledge of the surface world. In addition, while their magic is similar to the Drakkari, there are some notable differences as well that are worthy of research.”

“Oh? How so, Initiate?” Hadix questioned with visible curiosity.

“There have been no observed instances of the Tuskarr worshiping any Loa,” said Krivax. “Yet there are multiple recorded instances of their shaman performing feats of magic comparable to the Drakkari.”

Krivax vaguely remembered that the Tuskarr worshiped some giant sea monster thing, but the nerubians didn’t know that.

While nerubians were curious about shamanism, they generally looked down on any form of magic that gained power from more powerful entities. As far as the Viziers were concerned, any power easily gained from an outside source was just as easily lost.

When Krivax asked Hadix about Vizier Malas’s attempts to summon the spider Loa, he’d learned that the Vizier had intended to steal some of the Loa’s power for himself. It seemed to Krivax that something like that would be difficult to accomplish, but he didn’t know enough about the subject to be able to judge.

“Hmph. Interesting. Perhaps this venture of yours will be worth the effort after all. Now, tell me what route you intend to take on your journey.”

“I’ll first take the portal to our outpost past the Forbidden Caverns,” said Krivax. The Forbidden Caverns were a series of ancient tunnels in the Howling Fjord that were dense with Saronite. The tunnels had been quarantined by the nerubians and an outpost was constructed that allowed travelers to bypass them with portals.

The nerubians did not have any large cities beneath the Howling Fjord, so the portal system was easily able to handle the relatively light traffic.

“From there, I will travel to the surface and make my way to the closest known Tuskarr settlement,” Krivax continued. He’d chosen to approach the Tuskarr village in the Howling Fjord rather than the ones in the Dragonblight or the Borean Tundra, simply because Hadix was unable to grant him permission to travel to the capital or En’Kilah.

Azjol’Nerub’s capital—uncreatively named the same—resided beneath the Dragonblight and En’Kilah resided beneath the Borean Tundra, but neither would allow him to make use of their portal stations.

Krivax spent the next few minutes explaining in detail the route he planned to take, the potential dangers he might face, and the supplies he had prepared.

When he finished, Vizier Hadix spent several moments contemplating in silence before finally nodding his approval.

“Very well,” said Hadix. The Vizier reached into his robes with one of his four hands and retrieved a glowing disk that was emanating magical energy. “Your preparations are sufficient for the task in front of you. I believe you have earned this.”

Barely able to contain his glee, Krivax accepted the disk that would permit him to access the city’s portal to the Howling Fjord outpost and travel to the surface. He had spent years working to reach this point, and soon he would finally take his first steps outside the underground kingdom.

“Thank you, Vizier,” said Krivax, bowing once again in gratitude. “Will this allow Masruk to come with me to the surface as well?”

“Your gratitude is unnecessary, you have earned this through your own efforts,” said Hadix, waving one of his hands disdainfully. “As for your companion, assigning a low leveled Warrior to escort an Initiate on his research project is a trifling matter. The guards have been instructed to allow you both passage tomorrow. The disk merely serves to verify your identity.”

Tomorrow? I was not expecting to go so soon.

“Tomorrow, Vizier?”

“Is there a reason to wait?” Hadix responded dismissively.

Krivax considered the matter and decided that, no, there was no particular reason for him to wait. He'd already managed to make all of his preparations a long time ago, so the only thing he was waiting for was permission. Every day that went by was another day that the War of the Spider drew closer.

Krivax spent a few more minutes going over some of the smaller details with the Vizier before saying his goodbyes and retiring to his room.

Skittering over to his makeshift kitchen, Krivax plucked a beetle from the Iceweave Web and tossed it into his mouth.

The Iceweave served as a form of nerubian refrigeration device by freezing anything that was placed onto it. While Iceweave was available to most nerubians in all but the most isolated of communities, Krivax was particularly proud of this Iceweave because he had made it himself. Members of the Circle were highly encouraged to find a way to use their specialized skills to contribute to society in ways other than research.

This could be done in many ways, whether it be through alchemy, enchanting, or other such specialized magical professions. Instead of picking one of these, Krivax had chosen to learn magical silk crafting for the simple reason that it was the least time-consuming profession that was available to him.

There was also the fact that being able to produce silk with fantastical properties that could be turned into magical items was very useful.

Krivax placed an assortment of insects onto the Flameweave Web and decided it would be a good idea to sort through his prepared supplies while he waited for his dinner to heat up. Frozen beetles were a tasty snack, but the rest of his meal would need to be heated before he could eat it.

Krivax opened up the spatial bag he had spent several weeks of his salary to purchase.

The bag contained food, notepads, troll blood regeneration potions, a large knife, and a variety of different tools he would need for his journey. Krivax reached into his robes and placed the artifacts he had been given by Hadix into the bag. These artifacts included the identification disk, an emergency communication device, and the artifact that would translate his intent.

The scent of freshly warmed insects interrupted his organizing and Krivax put away the supplies before skittering over to the Flameweave Web so he could enjoy his dinner.

After he finished eating, Krivax considered going to visit Masruk so they could talk about their journey, but ultimately decided against it. Masruk would have already been informed by the Warriors that he would be escorting Krivax tomorrow, and anything else they needed to talk about could wait until he woke up.

Krivax looked at the messy stack of books sitting in the corner of his room. Normally he would still be studying around this time, but he would need to be well-rested for the coming day, so it would be best if he went to sleep early. Krivax climbed onto his sleeping web and allowed the silk’s enchantment to wash over him, causing him to instantly feel drowsy.

With a wave of his hand, Krivax caused the illumination stones embedded in the ceiling to cease emitting light, plunging the room into darkness.

Krivax fell asleep only a few moments later while still thinking about the coming day and the challenges that awaited him.

Chapter Text

Fortunately, Krivax was correct about Masruk already being informed about their imminent adventure. When he arrived at the Warrior compound, his friend was already fully geared and ready to leave. After quickly double-checking that they both had all the necessary supplies, the two of them left the compound and started making their way to the city’s portal station.

As the two of them made their way through the crowds of nerubians going about their day, Krivax went over the route they would take and the potential dangers they might face. While they had already talked about it extensively, it was worth repeating.

Krivax was not expecting the route to be particularly dangerous, but those expectations were built on research that was already centuries old and imperfect metaknowledge. The worst things they should encounter before they meet the Tuskarr are shoveltusks—which they should easily be able to handle—but one could never be too careful.

Fortunately, the portal station was located relatively close to the Warrior compound, so it did not take the two of them long to arrive. The building was guarded by armored guards and administrators could be seen inspecting anyone coming and going from the portals.

Following the helpful signs that pointed them in the direction of the correct portal, Krivax and Masruk skittered past a few of the busier portals until they reached the correct location.

The portal itself looked like a tear in reality with its edges illuminated with a violet outline. With his magical senses, Krivax could feel magic being diverted from the nearest leyline, through the building, and into the portal in a constant effort to keep it from closing.

“Greetings, are you two Initiate Krivax and Neophyte Masruk?” asked the bored-looking administrator, who was presumably assigned to this portal.

“Yes. Yes, we are,” said Krivax, speaking for the both of them. Reaching into his spatial bag, he retrieved and presented his identification disk.

“I see,” said the administrator as he inspected the disk with his magic. “Barely anyone uses this portal aside from those assigned to maintaining the outpost, so your names caught my attention.”

The administrator spoke with a questioning tone, but Krivax simply pretended he couldn’t hear it and responded with the nerubian equivalent of a smile.

Seeing that he wouldn’t be getting any interesting gossip out of Krivax, the administrator seemed to lose any interest in the two of them and quickly finished processing them.

Stepping through the portal was an incredibly strange feeling for Krivax. While the transition from one location to another was far more seamless than it would have been if he was teleported, the abrupt changes to all of his senses were still very jarring.

From one moment to another, everything from the lighting to the air to the ambient magic was suddenly different. Krivax idly wondered which parts of the environment the portal was designed to filter as he and Masruk adjusted to the changes in their senses.

After they finished adjusting, they once again presented their identification to an administrator and waited patiently as they were processed. After they were done, Krivax was surprised to hear that the outpost’s Gatewatcher had sent a Warrior to escort them to the entrance to the surface.

As the silent Warrior escorted them through a dizzying maze of tunnels, Krivax could tell that the outpost was manned almost entirely by Warriors.

Soon enough, Krivax and Masruk were brought to the most heavily guarded portion of the outpost. The entrance to the surface was swarming with Warriors and protected by a fearsome gatekeeper.

Krivax had occasionally seen Spiderlords at various points over the past four years, but always in passing. The Spiderlords held positions as leaders, guardians, and enforcers of the law in Azjol-Nerub’s society, so as a young Initiate of the Circle of Viziers he’d never had reason to meet one in person.

Until now, that is.

The factors that determined the highly variable size of the Spiderlords were unknown to Krivax, but this one was truly massive. Standing at what he estimated to be at least eighteen feet tall, the giant beetle-like nerubian had a brown carapace that looked thick enough to shrug off any blade and two large scythe-like arms that could easily tear a fully grown man in two.

As the giant nerubian blocked the way and looked down at him with a searching expression, Krivax couldn’t help but feel that both the Scourge and the Vrykul must be truly powerful to defeat such terrifying killing machines.

“You must be Initiate Krivax and Neophyte Masruk. I am Gatekeeper Gruth’ib” said the Spiderlord in an extremely deep voice. “Vizier Hadix has secured your passage through these gates. Beware, young ones. The surface is teeming with danger, and once you pass this threshold your safety is nobody's responsibility but your own. Are you certain you wish to continue?”

“Yes, Gatekeeper. We are certain,” Krivax said with confidence. For a normal nerubian, this would likely be a truly daunting moment, but all he felt was an eagerness to take his first look at Azeroth’s sky.

The Gatekeeper turned his gaze to Masruk, who simply responded with a silent nod of agreement.

“Very well. Present your identification and I shall open the way.”

Krivax made to hand over his identification for the third time in the past few hours, only to hesitate.

He doesn’t have any hands… how does he expect me to hand it over?

Just when he was starting to feel awkward, the sound of chittering at his feet drew his gaze downwards.

A dog-sized beetle was wildly chittering at him and waving its two front arms in a grasping motion. Krivax turned a questioning gaze to the Gatekeeper, but the Spiderlord responded with nothing but an amused expression.

Well… okay? I hope I’m not about to make myself look really stupid.

Crouching down, Krivax handed his identification to the beetle, who immediately grabbed it and skittered away toward the Gatekeeper. Gruth’ib spent a few moments examining this disk before turning to address his subordinates.

“Open the gates.”

Krivax watched the Warriors open the gates as the beetle returned his disk. While the large black and gold gate was quite impressive, he couldn’t help but focus most of his attention on the magic flowing through the walls. Krivax was not skilled enough with enchanting to understand what purpose the magic served, but his instincts told him that any attempted invader would find themselves quickly regretting their decisions.

Without further comment, Gatekeeper Gruth’ib moved aside with steps quieter than an eighteen-foot insectoid killing machine that weighed thousands of pounds should be allowed to have.

Seeing no reason to delay, Krivax bowed politely to the Spiderlord and started making his way to the surface with Masruk.

“Are you nervous, buddy?” Krivax asked his friend in an attempt to calm his nerves. While he should be feeling nothing but excitement, he had been working towards this for several years and now that the moment was finally approaching, Krivax couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. “This is a big deal, you know? This is the first time we’ll be on our own.”

“I believe you are more nervous than I am,” Masruk said evenly. “We will protect each other, and if necessary we have both the emergency communication device if we need help and the scrying crystal for non-emergency situations. Everything will be fine.”

The emergency communication device was a magical tool that would send his location to Hadix along with a request for immediate assistance. The scrying crystal, on the other hand, would allow him to communicate with Hadix after performing a lengthy magical ritual.

Damn it Masruk, aren’t you actually four years old? Why are you so much more relaxed about this than I am?

The two of them made small talk as they climbed the winding tunnel upwards until suddenly, the two of them took a turn and laid eyes on the surface world for the first time in their lives.

When Krivax saw the end of the tunnel open and saw the stars glittering in the night sky, he couldn’t help but completely freeze. Only the impatient prodding of Masruk to move so he could exit the tunnel as well was enough to bring him back to reality again as it truly hit him how he was on a completely alien world than the one he recalled in his first life, as evidenced by the two moons hanging in the sky.

At least Masruk was soon struck by the alienness of the surface as well, if for a completely different reason.

“How high does the ceiling reach?” he suddenly asked, honestly curious.

“Those are celestial bodies, not crystals in a cavern ceiling. They can go on far beyond our ability to comprehend.” He reminded him, still dumbstruck in his own way.

“Of course…” Masruk returned as they sat in a comfortable silence for a moment and simply took in the world around them. “Krivax, what is that?”

Krivax looked to the sky in the direction that Masruk was pointing, only to see a giant eagle—far larger than any bird that could be found on earth—flying through the night sky. If he still had the vision of a human, there would be no chance for him to spot the bird in the darkness, but nerubian eyes were well-adapted for the dark.

“That is a Duskwing Eagle,” said Krivax as he looked at the giant bird with faint awe. Even after living in Azeroth for four years he was still easily affected by such fantastical sights. It still sometimes amazed him to see the various giant bugs, spiders, jormungars, arachnathids, and other such creatures in the Empire.

“Is it dangerous? Will it attack?” asked Masruk, gripping his spear tightly.

We’re two giant spider people. I doubt there are very many predators stupid enough to attack us.

“No, I don’t think so. As long as we don’t threaten it I doubt it will bother us,” Krivax said reassuringly.

Once the two of them adjusted to their new surroundings, Krivax decided to take a look at his surroundings to see if he could find out which direction they needed to go. Fortunately, there were a few landmarks that gave him a decent idea of where he was, namely the Whisper Gulch that was visible from the tunnel’s threshold.

That location was understandably marked with notes that read ‘do not enter’ and ‘hazardous’ on the map Krivax had drawn using a combination of the Circle’s research and his own metaknowledge.

The faint sound of waves, the scent of the ocean, and the occasional seagull also served to make the direction of the coast fairly obvious. It only took a few minutes of walking in that direction for the two of them to reach the edge of the tall cliff that overlooked the nearby ocean. This triggered another long moment of dumbstruck staring that only ended when Masruk started to ask questions about the ocean.

“So it's full of salt?” Masruk asked in astonishment. “How does anything live in it?”

“They are built for it, just like we are for the underground.” Krivax shrugged.

Now that he knew the location of the ocean and the Whisper Gulch, it was only a matter of following the edge of the cliff until they spotted the Ancient Lift that connected the Isle of Spears to the rest of Northrend.

Given they were both well rested—and it was still nighttime—it would probably be a good idea for them to both get moving. Unfortunately, Krivax was not quite certain how long it would take them to reach the village, so he had prepared a few supplies that would make the journey easier.

Reaching into his spatial bag, Krivax pulled out two vials filled with a gold-colored liquid. Krivax was fortunate that he could earn a decent amount of money through magical silk crafting because stamina potions were truly not cheap. A part of him believed he would have enjoyed learning alchemy himself… but it was more important for him to prioritize his time.

After handing one of the potions to Masruk he opened the vial and quickly downed the potion in one quick gulp. Potions often tasted incredibly strange, so it was best to drink them as quickly as possible. Immediately after Krivax finished drinking the viscous liquid, he felt a surge of boundless energy that to him felt inexhaustible.

Intellectually, he knew that the potion would only last for the night, but he still felt as if he could run at a full sprint for days.

“Let's go,” said Krivax after putting away the empty vials. “It’ll be best if we travel as far as we can during the night while most of the animals are asleep. We can set up a nest in one of the trees after the sun rises.”

Once Masruk nodded his agreement, the two of them started to move at a quick pace while following the edge of the cliff. One thing that was definitely not captured in the Warcraft franchise was how quickly nerubians were able to move due to their large size and multiple sets of legs, especially when they didn't need to worry about their stamina.

Honestly, being a giant spider person who was larger than an adult human and also able to run nearly as fast as a horse had its benefits.

As they traveled, Krivax did his best to answer Masruk’s frequent questions.

The young nerubian seemed to be interested in everything, from clouds to trees to the random wildlife that hurriedly moved out of their way. For Krivax, it was interesting to see all the animals that were present in this location that did not exist in the game, from stuff that wouldn’t be out of place back on Earth to things he didn’t even have names for. After a few hours of running, Krivax had seen rabbits, dragonflies, a strange fox thing with tiny antlers, squirrels, a few deer, and even a herd of shoveltusk grazing in the distance.

Thankfully, it seemed that he was right to assume the wildlife wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack two large predators for no reason.

Like this, the two of them managed to cover a deal of great distance as they traveled the rest of the night without interruption. It was only when the sun started to peek over the horizon that their pace started to slow.

While their potions still had a small amount of time before they ran out, the two of them could not help but be entranced by the sight of their first Azerothian sunrise.

As the darkness abated and the animals began to grow more active with the early morning light, the two of them decided to find a tree they could build a nest in and use to get some rest. After all, it had been a long evening for the both of them.

The terrain was mostly flat and not heavily forested, so they would likely be able to see any incoming danger regardless of which tree they chose. Seeing no reason to pick one giant tree over another, the two nerubians made their way to a tree that resides on a small hill.

As Masruk started to prepare their rations so they could have a quick meal once they finished spinning their web, Krivax began to inspect the tree in order to make certain no Duskwing Eagles had already made a nest in it.

He had only just finished determining that the tree was unoccupied—and thus free for them to use—when he heard a strange bellow that sounded something like an angry boar.

Startled, Krivax turned his attention to the direction the sound came from, only to see a large shoveltusk charging the two of them and several smaller ones behind it nervously huddling together.

Krivax frantically began casting a Frostbolt while Masruk charged spear first at the incoming stag. While the adult shoveltusk was very strong, it had no chance of standing up to Masruk and Krivax.

Masruk’s spear expertly kept the territorial creature at bay and Krivax’s full-strength Frostbolts constantly smashed into the shoveltusk’s side and left it slow and injured. With a quick thrust, Masruk buried his spear into the side of the creature, causing it to collapse and spit out blood.

By the time they put the shoveltusk out of its misery, the rest of the herd was already running off into the distance.

“Good job, Masruk,” said Krivax as he looked away from the animal’s bloody corpse. It was his first time killing another living being and even if it was just an animal, he couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.

It’s fine. People go hunting all the time back on Earth. I already knew I was going to have to get used to stuff like this, so there’s no point in making a big deal about it.

“It was easy,” said Masruk. Krivax felt like he could hear some disappointment in his friend’s voice. “The shoveltusk was not very intelligent. It continuously charged into my spear even after such tactics failed already.”

Krivax ignored his battle-hungry friend’s disappointment and started to wrap the animal’s corpse in webs so they would have an easier time dragging it away. After all, it would be unwise to leave a corpse near where they intended to sleep when it could attract scavengers.

Once the two of them pulled the shoveltusk an acceptable distance away, they quickly climbed up the tree and began weaving their temporary nest.

When the tree was nearly fully covered in webs that would entrap any approaching predator, Krivax and Masruk unpacked their rations and turned to watch the sunrise. After they finished their meal and were preparing to go to sleep, Masruk decided to climb to the very top of the tree to see if he could spot any potential threats.

“Krivax, what are those?” asked Masruk, interrupting Krivax as he was busy trying to make his sleeping cocoon more comfortable.

With a slight huff of exasperation, Krivax climbed to the top of the tree so he could explain whatever this new sight was to his friend. For a moment, after he saw the strange shapes floating back and forth in the distance, Krivax had no idea what he was looking at until he suddenly remembered a particular Tuskarr tradition.

The Tuskarr flew large kites over their settlements as a way of signaling their location to one another.

Well alright then. I guess we’ll be making first contact faster than I thought.

Chapter Text

Orfus sighed wearily as the light of the morning peaked through the windows of his small home. He was reluctant to rise so early, but he knew he had a long day ahead of him and important responsibilities. The representatives from Kaskala and Moa’ki had just left, and Kamagua needed to replenish its food stocks as a result.

Orfus understood that the Elders felt it was important to throw a feast for visiting clans so they could demonstrate their capability, but they weren’t the ones who would need to hunt the shoveltusks. Fortunately, they would only need to hunt the beasts as a temporary supplement until the Fishermen managed to refill the village’s food supply.

Lifting himself from the comfort of his bed, Orfus donned his whale skin vest, grabbed his personal knife and spear, and made his way out of his house to face the day.

As he took a glance around the Ancient Life Outpost, he could immediately tell that his friend, Lunk-tusk, had already left to go hunting.

Orfus huffed in amusement, his friend would rather hunt alone than spend time looking after the younger hunters. He wasn’t too worried though, Lunk-tusk was a highly capable warrior and was more than able to take care of himself.

Ready to get the day started, Orfus walked to the middle of the outpost and decided to wake up the young ones.

“Wake up, short-tusks!” bellowed Orfus at the top of his lungs. “The sun is up and it's time to get moving! Tayutka does not feed the lazy!”

Orfus chuckled to himself as he heard the muffled curses of young men throwing themselves out of bed and frantically preparing for the day ahead.

Soon enough, four young men with short and shiny tusks were lined up in front of him.

After a short inspection, he was pleased to see that Hrajopo, Hogak, Iriunot, and Motak had all managed to prepare themselves properly for the hunt.

“Are you ready, short-tusks?” asked Orfus sternly. Even if they were not expecting any great danger, hunting—just like fishing—was something that should always be taken seriously. “I don’t want any of you getting gored because you decided to do something foolish. Our people are counting on us to feed them, and your families are counting on you to come back home. I expect you all to follow my directions, am I clear?”

He usually preferred to be more relaxed, but he had learned the hard way that it was best to be strict with young warriors who were barely more than calves.

After receiving enthusiastic affirmations from the young ones, Orfus nodded and started to lead them north. Their people were not best suited to travel quickly over land or for long distances on foot, but that was not a problem when it came to hunting shoveltusks. The stags were extremely territorial and would end up attacking anything that approached their herd’s feeding grounds. All Orfus needed to do was find a herd of shoveltusks, walk in its direction, and kill the stag that came charging at him.

In Orfus’s opinion, hunting shoveltusks was far simpler than fishing, which was likely the reason why it was not nearly as respected and thus not worth many knots on one’s counting staff. Even embroidery done by the womenfolk was worth more knots.

Still, it was something that needed to be done.

The only difficult part was actually finding a herd. Lunk-tusk had scouted a herd north of the outpost a few days ago, but they had already been walking for a while and were having trouble finding it. The lands were very flat, so Orfus was surprised they had not spotted it yet.

Orfus was looking around and growing increasingly frustrated by the lack of shoveltusks despite having been walking for nearly an hour when his search was interrupted by Iriunot’s yells.

“Long-tusk, what is that?!”

Orfus looked in the direction Iriunot was pointing in and was immediately dumbstruck by what he saw.

There was a tall tree peeking over a hill that was covered completely in spider webs.

“Get behind me, now!” Orfus barked at the younger warriors.

There was no reason for there to be giant spiders this far from the Rivenwood, but there was always a chance something had driven them south. A riven widow was not itself difficult to kill, but its venom was a death sentence without immediate attention from a shaman. Orfus had a faster reaction time and thicker blubber than the rest of his hunting party, so it would be best for them to stay behind him.

After the short-tusks were safely behind him, he gripped his spear tightly and carefully inched his way forward. With every step he took closer Orfus expected a giant spider to come charging down from the tree. Strangely, he managed to make it all the way there without incident, and even after circling the webbed tree, nothing attacked him.

Orfus felt his apprehension turn into confusion as he confirmed the tree to be empty.

“There is nothing here,” Orfus said with feigned confidence. The short-tusks slowly calmed down and started to gawk at the tree with curiosity. “Prepare to head back. This needs to be reported to the Elders.”

He hoped one of the shamans would understand what was going on since it was quite odd for the riven widows to abandon a nest. Orfus was about to lead the hunting party back to the outpost, and then to Kamagua, when he was interrupted by a strange voice.

“Greetings!”

Orfus and his hunting party immediately brandished their spears and stood back to back. He frantically looked at his surroundings but was unable to spot the owner of the voice. Still, he pushed himself in front of his hunting party and pointed his spear toward the bushes to his left.

After all, in such flat lands, there were very few places a person could hide.

“Who are you? Show yourself, stranger!”

“I will,” said the voice. They spoke slowly and their Kalu’aka was accented in a way Orfus had never heard before; are they a different race? Maybe a troll or a taunka? Perhaps a human? “But first, promise no attack.”

They were worried about being attacked?

Orfus allowed himself to relax as it looked less and less likely that their hunting party was about to be ambushed.

“I promise, stranger. We have no intention of attacking you if you do not attack us. We Kalu’ak are a peaceful people.”

Orfus expected the stranger to show themselves after being reassured, but they instead called out again with audible hesitation.

“Remember promise. We look scary.”

Orfus barely held back a scoff. He was a fully grown warrior of Kamagua. There was no chance of him being frightened to the point of violence by the appearance of some strange taunka or troll. He was even less frightened by the appearance of the small, tuskless humans.

“You need not worry, stranger,” Orfus said soothingly. “No matter what manner of creature you may be, we promise we will not attack you.”

After a few more moments of hesitation, the strangers finally walked out of the bushes and Orfus almost made himself into a liar.

As it was, he was able to hold back his instinctual reaction and focused his attention on stopping the screaming short-tusks from throwing their spears in terror.

“Calm down! Are you men or are you children?!”

After a lot of yelling, Orfus was eventually able to calm down the short-tusks enough that he didn’t need to worry about them recklessly attacking the two giant spider creatures that could talk. Orfus shot a quick glare to the short-tusks and made it clear that he would be the one doing the talking.

“I apologize, strangers. Your appearances are indeed a bit more… startling than I expected,” Orfus said as diplomatically as possible. “I am Orfus of Kamagua. Who are you?”

“I am Krivax,” said the giant spider person who was wearing a robe made from some strange material. It then pointed to the other one next to it, which was wearing a set of metal armor and holding a spear. “This is Masruk. We want peace, not fight. We bring fish.”

Orfus looked on in disbelief as the creature presented a Fangtooth Herring to them within a net of… more webs apparently, which made it clear who was responsible for the tree.

He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable with how much of their language and culture the giant spider person knew. However, his sense of propriety did not allow any of this discomfort to show on his face as he accepted the gift. To deny a gift freely given, especially one that was sourced from the bounty of the sea through the hard work of another, would be a great insult after all.

After the creature presented the fish, the short-tusks calmed down significantly and their expressions became much more curious rather than fearful. Orfus usually appreciated his people’s kind and trusting nature, but right now it was his job to protect the young ones from a potential threat.

“Thank you for the gift, Krivax,” Orfus said politely. The armored one seemed content to allow his companion to do all of the talking, so he directed his words to Krivax “I hate to be rude, but I have to ask. What are you, and what are your intentions?”

The fact that this creature was able to speak Kalu’aka and presented them with a peace offering in the form of a freshly caught fish meant that they had not approached his people by accident.

“Our people are called…”

The giant talking spider thing then started to speak in a strange skittering language, yet somehow, Orfus was able to understand the general gist of what it was saying. Was this some kind of magic?

Apparently, these creatures were called nerubians. Orfus did not know what a nerubian was, or if he would be able to pronounce the strange word, but it was not his responsibility to know such things. Orfus hoped that the Elders knew something about these creatures, or perhaps one of the Shamans would be able to contact an ancestor who had experience with them.

“We want peace. Trade. Friendship. No fighting.”

Orfus carefully considered the creature’s words as the short-tusks continued to lose their sense of wariness about the strange creatures. If these nerubians were approaching his people in a diplomatic manner and with the intention of fostering friendship and trade, then this was something that could only be handled by the Chieftain.

A part of Orfus wilted at the idea of how much hunting he would need to do if their village hosted more diplomats after the last ones had just left, but he knew he would do whatever his village required of him. Right now, the best way to handle these strange creatures was to learn as much as he could about them before he spoke to the Elders.

“I mean no disrespect, Krivax, but I know nothing about you or your people. I need to seek the wisdom of our people’s Elders before I can allow you to approach our village.”

“Understand. Not problem,” said Krivax. The nerubian then seemed to hesitate before speaking quickly in its harsh language.

Whatever magic the creature was using to translate its intentions sent Orfus feelings of understanding and a desire to show him what they had brought to trade. Krivax also promised not to approach their village or outpost without their permission.

“Alright, if you would like to show us what you have brought to trade, then I’m willing to take a look and tell our Elders when I speak to them.”

Orfus was not sure how much of what he said was understood by the creature, but he hoped that their strange magic would work both ways.

Krivax reached into a bag that they had been carrying over their shoulder, and Orfus was once again astounded as more of their arm disappeared into the bag than should be possible. It was starting to become clear to him that these nerubians were capable of feats of magic that the shamans were incapable of.

Orfus tensed as the nerubian started to pull something out of the magical bag, but rather than it being a weapon like part of him was expecting, it seemed to be a large roll of silk.

The giant spider people want to trade with silk. At least that makes sense.

By the time the nerubian was finished retrieving their trading goods, Krivax had pulled out several rolls of silk in various different colors and an assortment of metal ores. Orfus was feeling a bit out of his depth, he was a warrior, not a blacksmith or a seamstress.

Still, he would do his best to evaluate these goods so that he could present the Elders with as much information as possible.

“Can you explain what these are?” Orfus said respectfully. “I am not familiar with these items.”

“Yes. Can explain,” Krivax said eagerly. They then started to speak in their native language as they described the use of each of the objects.

Once they were done, even somebody as unfamiliar as him with the work of a seamstress could understand how valuable these silks were. By Issliruk, if what they said is true, then the reinforced silk could be used to make nets and ropes that would completely change how their people fished!

They even had silks that were able to heat anything that they touched. This could be used to make clothing that would protect the more vulnerable members of their community during the particularly harsh winters. Orfus could not immediately think of a use for the colder silk, but he was certain somebody in their village would find it useful.

When Orfus asked about the ores, he learned that they were all rather ordinary metal ores that his people were able to produce in great quantities because they apparently lived underground. Orfus was torn between feeling extreme horror at the thought of a race of giant spider people living beneath his feet, and glee at the thought of cheaper metals that could be used to make tools and weapons.

These nerubians must be extremely confident in their capabilities if they were willing to carelessly trade away metal ores.

Orfus looked at the younger warriors who were busy gawking at the silk and ores, and couldn’t help but feel that the events of today would be worthy of being carved into their tusks.

Orfus spent the next few minutes asking clarifying questions, which the nerubian answered patiently. It was a bit difficult for them to communicate complicated ideas due to the language barrier, even with the spider people’s strange magic, but they were able to muddle through.

When he was done, Orfus asked the two nerubians to wait by the webbed tree for them to return as he left to go speak to the Elders. Krivax agreed and also offered to give him a shoveltusk stag for them to bring back to his people.

That explained why we couldn’t find the herd, he thought to himself as Orfus accepted but told them that bringing back the corpse would slow them down too much and that they would collect it later.

After Krivax agreed, Orfus bid the two nerubians farewell and started to drag his hunting party back to the village as quickly as possible.

“To think that there was such a people living in Northrend that we didn’t know about…” Hogak spoke in wonder.

“As my father says, ‘the world is wider than we will ever know,’” Motak followed up.

“I wonder what it is like living underground. It seems like a good way to avoid blizzards, but I think I would miss not seeing the sun or stars after a while,” Hrajopo mused.

“You think they honor spiders like we honor walruses as reincarnated ancestors? Maybe they can even talk to them like the Shamans do…” Iriunot wondered out loud.

The four short-tusks continued to converse among themselves about their first contact with a race that no one, as far as Orfus knew at least, had even heard of and what they might be like.

Orfus let them since he was wondering quite a lot himself, and there was clearly no longer a need to be silent on this hunt turned diplomatic meeting.

As they hurriedly made their way back, Orfus couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to explain this to the Elders. It was a good thing he had four other witnesses as well as the web net containing the Fangtooth Herring. He doubted anyone would believe him when he told them what he saw otherwise.

Chapter Text

“I have a few ideas, Chieftain Atuk,” the ‘nerubian’, Krivax, said with what sounded like good cheer.

“Then please, share them,” Atuk responded as he sat down on one of the seal hide pillows in front of the firepit while gesturing for his guests to do the same. Both Krivax and his companion Masruk did so, if not in the same manner as himself.

Both oriented themselves above the offered seats and then curled their legs until their ‘lower bodies’ touched the ground. Krivax folded his arms in front of him while Masruk laid his spear across his lap. It was… odd, but understandable given their different body shapes, more similar to the savage Magnataur than any Tuskarr, but much more polite and peaceful.

So far, anyway.

Elders Ko’kewi and Wumni also sat down, the latter with a sigh as she rested her old bones, while their party of warriors simply backed off a respectful distance… but still close given these strangers.

“First, you must understand that our kingdom, Azjol-Nerub, is very self-sufficient for the most part. We haven’t interacted much with the surface world for a very long time since… Well, frankly many believe it has nothing we want or need. The Circle of Viziers, the order I am a part of, are among the only ones who still have an interest in the surface for research purposes, but even then most think we are better off on our own. I am one of the few who believe that the surface has much to offer us, but only if we lend out a friendly hand and speak with those who live here and get to know them. Hence, why we are here,” Krivax explained.

He then paused for a moment before continuing. “Do keep in mind though this is mostly a personal venture. I have no authority to speak on behalf of my own city’s ruler, let alone the High King. But I do hope our talks here might lead to something more official in the future.”

Atuk hummed to himself as he digested the information. A whole kingdom living underground, apparently for a very long time and barely venturing to the surface, without anyone knowing was rather… distressing. Still, the fact they hadn’t caused his people any trouble in the long memory of the ancestors was good, and even better this diplomatic venture by this curious and open-minded example of their kind.

Still, that left the question…

“If your people are so well off, then what could we possibly have to offer them?” Atuk asked outright.

“Well… if I can be frank, not a whole lot, but what you can provide can still help show the rest of my people that totally isolating ourselves is not in our best interests,” Krivax said.

“And what would that be?” Elder Wumni asked with a slightly clipped tone.

“Knowledge is a big one,” Krivax, earning a huff from the Elder Wumni. “Not your magic though! I get that the last nerubian here likely didn’t leave the best impression. Viziers can be… a bit single-minded at times. While I would love to know more about it personally, I also would love to learn about your history, your customs, your traditions, your language, and everything you would feel comfortable sharing with outsiders.”

“That would be something we’d be willing to share with guests freely. Our way of life is no secret, and so long as you’d be willing to share the same I think this could build the groundwork to a good relationship between our people,” Atuk nodded at the easy enough request.

“As Shaman I suppose you’ll be dumping that job mostly on me then,” Elder Wumni grunted. “I suppose it won’t be too different than teaching the calves.”

“Thank you, Honored Elder, and naturally I will share with you my peoples’ way as well. And if you ever feel comfortable teaching me a little about your magic I can gladly do the same,” Krivax hummed and gave what Atuk thought might be his version of a smile… It was a little disturbing seeing the mouth parts in front of his face move like that.

“Don’t go hunting whales just yet, boy,” Wumni lightly warned.

“Of course,” Krivax nodded before turning back to Atuk. “As for other things… is it true that you fish certain creatures from the waters that have an outer exoskeleton like us?” he asked while tapping at his chest, letting out a light clicking sound.

“Exoskeleton… you mean a shell? In that case, yes. We catch many crabs, lobsters, shrimp, clams, and other such creatures all the time in our traps and nets. Why do you ask?” Edler Ko’kewi questioned.

“Well, you see the main source of food for our people is fungus, algaes, protein-rich webbing, and especially raised and ranched insects, arachnids, and worms. Fish is a rare meal only few of our people actually eat, from whom I learned to fish,” Krivax explained.

No fish! Atuk thought in shock, not imagining anyone not taking part in the sea’s bounty at least in some small way.

“Why not trade our excess fish and whale meat then for… whatever it is you use for currency?” Elder Wumni asked.

“We use coins,” Krivax stated, sharing a convenient fact about how his people did business with one another that was similar to how their own did. “And unfortunately I don’t think it will catch on since only a few of us as said actually eat and enjoy it. However, while I haven’t tried it myself and I hope I can while we are here, that these creature’s similarities with what we eat already will make a luxury market for those in my kingdom who come to enjoy them. This can be a very beneficial trade since it exposes my people to an aspect of the surface they like and you would likely earn much in exchange, be it coins or products.”

That was an interesting idea… and it was harder to store shellfish than fish anyhow so they could sell the surplus during good seasons and use the wealth earned to better prepare for lean ones. Of course… this depended on whether the nerubians did enjoy shellfish…

Well, it was close to lunch anyhow.

“Then let us test it now,” Atuk said with a smile.

---

Atuk chuckled a little as he took a bite of fried Fangtooh and shoveltusk, both provided by their guests to complete the gift giving ritual, alongside Elders Wumni and Ko’kewi as their guests dug into their own food… almost literally.

They were given steamed crab and lobster, with a side of oysters, to see how nerubians liked the taste of them, and the answer was apparently very much.

The chieftain watched as his guests dug into their food as if they hadn’t eaten for days, cracking open the shells of all the foods with their teeth and happily sucking out the meat within. Masruk was especially eager, shoving a whole lobster into his mouth with only a couple of bites, while Krivax was more restrained.

On one hand it was a little nauseating watching them devour their meal with such gusto, but on the other he himself remembered his first solid meal of the sea’s bounty very fondly too. His own children and their children were very much the same with their first fish as well. He could excuse a bit of messy eating considering the nerubians had never partaken of such fine meals before.

It was only after they cleared their plates that the nerubians recognized their rudeness and actually looked embarrassed, or as embarrassed as giant spider people could look.

“I- I apologize for our poor manners,” Krivax bowed, followed quickly by Masruk.

“It smelled like nothing I’ve eaten before, and tasted like a mix of beetle and flyer- but better!” the warrior explained himself.

“I suppose that answers the question of whether or not your people would be willing to pay good coin for it then,” Elder Wumni chuckled out loud at their shamed looks.

“Indeed, I am sure it will be the talk of the Spiderlord, Vizier, and Queen circles the second it reaches their tables,” Krivax said. “Easily something they will pay a vast amount for.”

“That is good to hear, though I doubt we can sell much all the time since there is only so much we can safely fish out of the sea every season without harming the population. You’d have to ask the other clans elsewhere if you want a similar deal,” Atuk explained.

“If this grows as popular as I believe it will, then I am sure the High King himself will send trading parties to set it up,” Krivax said with confidence.

“Hehe, good to know,” Atuk smiled. “Now that we have shown you our bounty, do you mind sharing yours?”

“Of course,” Krivax said as he reached for his ‘magic bag’ and began pulling out various items from it that should not have fit within something so small. It confirmed Orfus’ earlier stories at least about the spiderfolk’s strange magic, since Atuk knew of no ancestral items with similar abilities.

He then laid out several bundles of silk and a small pile of different ores before him, also confirming past reports.

“Since we live underground my people mine a lot of minerals pretty often and use them for all sorts of things. I am sure you can get things like iron and steel for cheap from us, but don’t quote me on that since I am no merchant. We also mine precious metals like silver and gold, which we use in our currency along with copper and cobalt. I am sure you can find uses for that in tools, weapons, armor, kitchenware, etc.”

“Indeed we can,” Elder Ko’kewi said. “We value our tradition of making various things from the bones and teeth of the creatures we hunt, but we know the value of forged metal as well.”

“Great to hear, but I’m sure you’ll be more interested in our silk,” Krivax said while unrolling a sheet and presenting it to them. “I don’t like to brag, but our Weavers are masters in working it into all kinds of things: clothing, art, structures, stories, food, you name it. It can be woven into nets and ropes of great strength and longevity. As master fishermen, I am sure you can see the benefit of it, but don’t take my word for it. Take this and just try to tear it.”

Elder Ko’kewi took the sheet offered to her, and after feeling it for a bit did as she was told and attempted to rip the flimsy-looking sheet in twain… and failed.

Eyes widened all within Atuk’s home as all the Tuskarr present watched as Elder Ko’Kewi failed again and again trying to undo the bindings that held the silk sheet together, all to no avail. She huffed a bit from exertion before huffing again and giving the sheet over to him in defeat.

Atuk merely held the thin and incredibly smooth piece of fabric before him, turning it over and over to see if there was any damage to it after all that effort or if there was some trick at play. Finding none of either he merely decided to also test its resolve against his own, in his humble opinion, great strength.

Yet no matter how hard he tried it did not break, and in his youth he had once pulled a small kraken to shore!

He merely looked upon the undamaged sheet in awe before handing it to Elder Wumni.

The aged Shaman held the sheet within her hands, carefully rubbing her fingers through it while whispering under her breath, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“This fabric… the spirits like it,” she simply said before handing it back to Krivax. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even the giant spiders of the Rivenwood could weave something such as that.”

“To be fair, lesser giant spiders don't have our intelligence and skill,” Krivax humble-bragged as he folded the sheet and put it away. “And our silk is also very receptive to magic, which is likely why your… ‘spirits’ like it. We weave many spells and magical effects into our silk for certain effects, but even in its base state it has countless uses. These are some of the most common ones, and in fact ones I made myself, magic and silk,” Krivax said as he handed over another sheet, this time to Elder Wumni first.

“So warm,” she said at once, rubbing her hands all over the sheet in surprise.

“That sheet contains an enchantment that my own robes hold we call ‘minor flameweave’, which in this case makes those who wear it have a constant warm temperature. I think you can guess how useful that could be here on the surface considering how cold it can get. That is not even getting into the Flameweave and Iceweave enchants which we use to heat up and keep things cool respectively, which can help in cooking and storing food. That is only the beginning though and I myself can enchant silk to have a wide variety of effects, and I am a total novice compared to master Weavers back home. And who knows, maybe you’ll find them useful in your own magic like we do for our own.” Krivax said towards Elder Wumni, who had at some point during the explanation wrapped herself in the magically warm sheet with a content smile on her face.

“So warm…” the eldery shaman simply said.

“I would assume that these magical… ‘weavings’ would cost a great deal,” Elder Ko’Kewi pointed out.

“The more complex ones, yes, though minor ones can along with pure silk works tend to be pretty cheap since all nerubians can produce silk ourselves,” Krivax explained.

Atuk hummed once more to himself as he considered things. From practicality alone, these silk products could be very useful in nearly all aspects of his village’s life, and the envy of the other clans once word reached them. All of which can be bought and paid for mostly through fishing, something they could easily do and then do more of once they had better tools.

It could be a very good deal.

“This is all very impressive and I won’t deny that if a deal can be made that it would be foolish not to take part of it,” Atuk stated, who was about to say more before someone interrupted him.

“If you are serious about wheeling and dealing with us you are gonna need to learn how to actually talk to us beyond broken words and magically transferred intentions outside these walls,” Elder Wumni spoke up from her comfortable looking cocoon. “And since you seem so intent on getting to know the surface I say you should stay here and actually learn it right.”

That earned more than a few shocked glances.

“You… you mean stay here? In the village?” Krivax asked.

“Where else are you gonna properly learn Kalu'aka than right here? Also, figure keeping you here for a bit and seeing how you do among our people is the fastest way to see just how honest you nerubians are in your peaceful intentions,” Elder Wumni said. “Of course, assuming you both and the Chieftain are alright with it of course.”

“I do not mind, so long as I can spar with your warriors regularly to keep up my strength and Krivax agrees to it,” Masruk was quick to give his consent.

“Well… I wasn’t expecting this so early, but so long as I inform my superior back home about my extended ‘research expedition’ then it should be alright. I have a magical tool on hand to let me do just that as well,” Krivax nodded along.

“I would be happy to extend guest rights to you both for the time being, but if you plan to live and learn among us then you will be expected to contribute to the wellbeing of our community like all adult members of the Kalu'ak,” Atuk warned them.

“Of course, that is something both our people agree on,” Krivax readily agreed.

“Then on behalf of all Kamagua, I welcome you among our tribe and hope in time you come to see yourself a part of it,” Atuk intoned.

And so it was that Kamagua had earned itself two new… unique members.

Chapter Text

Krivax barely stopped himself from pacing back and forth as he waited anxiously for the tuskarr leadership to send back a representative to speak with him.

His first contact with the tuskarr was going well enough so far—given that there was no violence involved, even if there was a bit of understandable fear—but Krivax couldn’t help but worry about the next meeting. There were a lot of important things that depended on him successfully developing a peaceful relationship with the tuskarr.

Krivax had nearly panicked when he and Masruk returned to their temporary camp after successfully catching a fish, only to find it surrounded by armed tuskarr. It was fortunate for him that the walrus-people proved to be reasonable people who were open to diplomacy.

“Why are you so nervous?” asked Masruk.

“I just really hope this works out,” said Krivax. In an attempt to distract himself from his worry, he decided to pass the time by making small talk with Masruk. “So what do you think about the tuskarr?”

“Hmm… they look strong, but they don’t seem very fast. I would need to spar with one of them to form a complete opinion.”

Krivax waited for his friend to say more on the topic, but he seemed content to leave it at that.

So much for small talk, thought Krivax as he gave in to the urge to start pacing.

Krivax knew that in order to accomplish his ultimate goal of finding evidence of the existence of the other continents, he would need to develop a certain amount of trust with the tuskarr. It shouldn’t be too complicated for him to ask the tuskarr leadership if there was any contact between them and people from outside Northrend, but if they were suspicious of him then they might simply lie or refuse to answer.

Even if they did share their knowledge about lands outside of Northrend, Krivax would still need the tuskarr’s assistance if he wanted to get into contact with them. After all, he doubted that the nerubian leadership would give much credence to the words of a “lesser race” for such world-changing information, so Krivax would need to be able to bring them actual evidence.

The first step in getting the tuskarr to trust him was to start trading with them. Things would become much easier for Krivax if he succeeded in building a mutually beneficial relationship. The various trading goods he had brought for this meeting were all things that were both relatively cheap for him to acquire and were likely to be very useful to the tuskarr.

It also helped that all the silks were the magical varieties that he was capable of creating himself, and that the ores were mined within Azjol-Nerub in such vast quantities that it would not be impossible for him to supply the tuskarr by himself.

The only metals that Azjol-Nerub truly considered to be valuable were either extraordinarily rare, such as titanium, or were used by them as currency, such as copper, silver, gold, or cobalt.

The only problem was finding something that the tuskarr could trade in return for these things.

While Krivax did not believe that the nerubians were a ‘superior’ race, it was still undeniable that their society was vastly more advanced than the tuskarr. Nerubians would not be interested in going out of their way to trade for knives made from shark teeth or vests made from the skin of a whale.

Krivax hoped that the tuskarr Elders would be clever enough to find something that the nerubians would want, or he would have a hard time justifying his continued interest.

Like this, Krivax anxiously tried to sort through his future plans while waiting for the tuskarr to arrive. It was only after a few hours had passed and he started to worry that something had gone wrong that he finally spotted a group of tuskarr that looked more official than the previous one heading in their direction from the Ancient Lift.

Finally, I guess it makes sense that their meeting would go on for a while when they need to figure out how to deal with the two giant spider people who randomly showed up.

When the group came close enough for Krivax to properly see them, he could tell that the warrior he spoke to the first time was accompanied by a few other warriors, and someone he assumed to be an Elder was leading the group.

The presumed Elder had long yellow tusks covered in carvings, a small mustache, carried a gnarled wooden staff, and was wearing an extravagant fur and leather jacket. Krivax could tell the exact moment the new tuskarr could see him and Masruk properly because they all immediately stopped moving and started to nervously talk amongst themselves.

Krivax tried his best to stay still and look as harmless as a nerubian could look while he waited patiently for them to gather their courage. Eventually, they started to move again, though their body language was notably more cautious than it was before.

“Greetings,” said Krivax when they finally reached him. “Happy to meet you. I am Krivax. My friend is Masruk. What is your name?”

He did not have a firm mastery of the tuskarr language, but he decided it would be best to use it as much as possible instead of relying on magic to translate his intent. Ultimately, the best way to learn a language was to use it as much as possible.

“Greetings, Krivax,” said the Elder in a feminine voice. It was very difficult for Krivax to determine a physical difference between male and female tuskarr, but now that he was looking, he could see that her tusks were slightly more curved and her hair was longer. It was also possible that she had breasts… but it was honestly generally hard to tell considering the stout and blubbery build of tuskarr.

“I am Elder Ko’kewi. These are Lunk-tusk, Kagonut, and you’ve already met Orfus. We greet you and hope for peace between us.”

Hmm… so the one I was talking to is named Orfus. Good to know. I’m not an expert, but these guys look like skilled warriors.

It seemed likely to Krivax that the tuskarr had decided to approach him with a small group of skilled warriors as a way to offer sufficient protection to their Elder while not appearing overly hostile.

“We also want peace. We want to trade and exchange knowledge. We want to grow friendship.”

The tuskarr delegation seemed to relax significantly at his words. It seemed that they were very willing to be friendly after they got over his appearance and realized they did not need to be afraid.

“I am happy to hear that,” Ko’kewi said amiably. “Orfus has told us about the goods you wish to trade. May we see them?”

“Of course.”

Krivax quickly laid out the various silks and ores he had brought to trade and presented them to the delegation. After that, he gave the same speech he already gave Orfus about their various uses. The tuskarr were visibly startled when the intent of his words started to be translated to them by magic, but they must have already been warned because they got over it fairly quickly.

Unfortunately, while translating intent was far easier than translating language directly, it was also much less clear. Krivax needed to repeat a few things during his speech multiple times for them to accurately understand his meaning, but they eventually understood what he was offering them.

Krivax felt comforted when he saw the visible greed in their eyes; it seems like he picked the right trading goods to bring.

“What do you want for these?” Ko’kewi asked with a feigned lack of interest after he finished speaking.

“I don’t know,” said Krivax honestly. “I have a few ideas, but I would prefer to speak with your leadership so that we might negotiate a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

It took a little effort to get the tuskarr to understand what he was asking, but after they did, they huddled together and started to talk about it quietly amongst themselves.

“We will take you to meet our Chieftain,” said Ko’kewi after they reached a decision.

Once she was done speaking, the tuskarr called Kagonut stepped forward and delivered a series of stern warnings and threats about what would happen if they harmed anyone in the village.

While Kagonut was busy delivering his warnings, Orfus ran off to presumably get the body of the shoveltusk they had offered him earlier with Masruk guiding him.

I’m pretty sure I would be able to understand this guy even without magic. There’s no need to glare at me so much, dude. You’re the bad cop. I get it.

After reiterating his peaceful intentions, the tuskarr must have felt sufficiently reassured because they instructed him and Masruk to follow them back to their village. Orfus displayed the crazy strength of warriors in this world by easily carrying the wrapped-up shoveltusk on his back without any visible strain.

“Where are we going?” asked Masruk. Unlike Krivax, he did not know any tuskarr, and the magical artifact that translated intent only worked for those who held it.

“They have invited us back to their village,” said Krivax. “I’m going to talk to their Chieftain about trade, and hopefully we’ll be able to reach an agreement.”

“Why are they willing to bring us into their home?” asked Masruk, confused. “Kilah’Kuk would never allow them to enter our city under any circumstances.”

“I suppose they are just more trusting and open to outsiders than we are,” said Krivax evenly. It was good that his friend was asking these kinds of questions and learning that different groups had different values.

Masruk contemplated that silently for a moment before he spoke again.

“The big one looks very powerful,” said Masruk while looking directly at Kagonut. “You should request that they allow me to spar with him. I would like to test his strength.”

“...Sure, buddy. I’ll make sure to ask.”

I just hope they are familiar with the idea of friendly spars.

The tuskarr seemed to be growing agitated by the two of them speaking in a language they could not understand, so Krivax decided to end the conversation there.

It was not long before they reached the Ancient Lift.

There was a small group of several buildings that likely served as an outpost that protected the Ancient Lift from potential threats. The buildings themselves seemed to be fairly well built, with thick thatched roofs and an exterior constructed with wood and stone. The support beams were made from what Krivax assumed to be whale bones, and the doorways were covered by some kind of leather and fur.

Although the design of the Ancient Lift looked simple, it was still a remarkable thing to see in real life. Krivax wasn’t sure that some kind of primitive cable car that was in fact a vrykul boat suspended over the air by a rope was the safest way to travel, but he didn’t have very many options if he wanted to get to the Isle of Spears without a boat.

The tuskarr probably understand the thing pretty well, and they don’t seem particularly concerned, so I guess I should just suck it up.

The boat itself had a surprising amount of room and their entire group had no issue fitting inside.

Krivax was not certain how the tuskarr managed to start the thing when they were all safely aboard, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe as they began moving.

As they approached the Isle of Spears, Krivax couldn’t help but feel that the tuskarr had chosen a truly defensible location to build their village. Aside from murlocs, there were few things in the Howling Fjord that could threaten them when they lived on an island. Not only that, but the real island was much larger than it was portrayed in the game.

Krivax looked to one of the snowy portions of the island and gawked at a white, two-headed creature that was flying lazily through the air.

Soon enough, the boat passed over another tuskarr village—Iskaal, as Ko’kewi told him after being asked—and Krivax could see people waving up at them and staring in open curiosity. Krivax waved back at a tuskarr child and chuckled in amusement when the kid jumped in surprise and ran into one of the houses.

Eventually, their group descended safely unto the Isle of Spears, and Krivax and Masruk followed the tuskarr off the lift. Awaiting them was a pair of tuskarr warriors who were holding spears and riding giant turtles.

“Elder Ko’kewi, Chieftain Atuk awaits you and our guests.”

“Thank you, Turtle Rider.”

The two tuskarr followed along on either side of their group as they approached the village of Kamagua. While they entered and made their way to the Chieftain, Krivax took the opportunity to take a good look at the village.

For the most part, the buildings were built in the same style as the ones at the Ancient Lift’s outpost—although Krivax did see one interesting building that looked like it was built down into the ground and a couple of large tents made of some kind of hide.

There were also rows and rows of boats lined up near the docks and a steady stream of fishermen could be seen coming and going. The villagers themselves seemed to be both fearful and curious of the two nerubians, but they remained respectful enough of the Elder not to approach and did not appear overtly hostile.

Soon, they were led into the largest building in the village which Krivax assumed belonged to the Chieftain.

The inside of the building had a large fire pit lined with stones in the center, and several doorways that led to different rooms. Colorful weavings and a variety of what Krivax assumed to be trophies were hanging from the wall.

The Chieftain himself was a large tuskarr wearing a dark brown vest and a thick fur coat. His tusks were long, yellow, and densely covered with intricately carved symbols. However, his tusks could not compare to the female tuskarr that stood next to him.

She was much smaller than the Chieftain, yet Krivax felt like she had a presence that filled up the room. Her hair was long and white with old age, and her tusks were the longest of any tuskarr Krivax had yet seen and were nearly completely covered with carved symbols. Like Ko’kewi, she carried a gnarled staff and her eyes held a wisdom that made Krivax feel like she could see all of his secrets.

“Greetings, outsiders,” said the Chieftain. “I am Chieftain Atuk, and this is Elder Wumni. Welcome to Kamagua.”

“Greetings, I am Kriv—”

Before he could finish his introduction, Elder Wumni let out a snort of irritation and pounded her staff onto the ground. Krivax didn’t know what had just happened, but he momentarily felt a sudden surge of magic from the woman before it suddenly dissipated.

Krivax tensed and prepared for a fight when the old tuskarr suddenly spoke in what to him sounded like perfect nerubian.

“I’m not interested in listening to you butcher our language for the rest of this conversation, outsider,” said Elder Wumni, completely unconcerned by the sudden tension of the two nerubians. “This magic will allow us to understand each other while in the confines of this building.”

Krivax was completely dumbfounded. True translation magic was not a simple thing to accomplish, which was why the artifact Hadix gave him only allowed for the translation of general intentions. The Circle of Viziers had specific members who were trained to use such magic, and Seer Kuk’ir was the only nerubian he knew of that could cast a Glyph of Comprehension.

The fact that this old tuskarr managed to cast such complicated magic so casually was a… tad intimidating.

“Thank you for your assistance, Elder Wumni,” said Krivax as politely as possible. “My understanding of your language is incomplete, and I hope to learn more from your people in the future.”

Elder Wumni snorted with faint amusement.

“At least you’re polite. As far as I’ve been told, you’re already making a better impression than the last nerubian who came here. There’s no need to introduce yourselves. Orfus has already told us your names.”

“You have experience with my people, Elder Wumni?” said Krivax, forcing his voice to be as calm as possible, even as his mind was racing.

“Not me, but one of our ancestors,” said Elder Wumni. “When I called upon them and asked, they told me that a nerubian like you decided to come here in the pursuit of knowledge while offering nothing in return.”

She’s probably talking about the most recent Vizier to try studying the tuskarr. That definitely sounds like something a Vizier would do.

“I will not lie to you and say that I do not seek knowledge, but I wish to do so in a mutually beneficial way that will leave us both enriched, Elder Wumni.”

Elder Wumni stared at him searchingly for a long moment before suddenly nodding and turning her attention to Masruk.

“And you? Are you just a silent follower with no thoughts of your own?”

“I am Masruk, and I am here to protect and support my friend,” Masruk said matter-of-factly. “I would like to spar with some of your warriors, but I am not otherwise particularly interested in you.”

Krivax barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his palms.

Thankfully, rather than being insulted, the Elder instead started to chuckle.

“Very well said, Masruk,” said Elder Wumni. With a nod to the Chieftain, she stepped back and allowed him to lead the conversation.

“I think we both know that the goods you have brought to trade are very valuable to us, outsiders,” said Chieftain Atuk seriously. “I’m curious to hear what you wish for in return.”

“I have a few ideas, Chieftain Atuk,” said Krivax, shifting into a more comfortable position.

The negotiations were likely to go on for a while once they started getting into the specifics, so it was a good idea for him to get comfortable.

Chapter Text

“Well done, Pelle. You’re doing much better,” Krivax said kindly. The tuskarr seamstress was quickly improving in her ability to properly weave nerubian silk.

Krivax had already stayed in Kamagua for over a week now, and he was really enjoying himself. He had been ceaselessly working toward his goal for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to slow down. There were so many things he wanted to do in this fantastical world, but circumstances forced him to push all of those things aside.

Krivax wanted to see every inch of this world and experience all that it had to offer. He wanted to make friends, learn about new cultures, discover forgotten magic, and taste every kind of shellfish in the world.

He still was not yet secure enough to allow himself to relax completely, but staying in a peaceful village like Kamagua made him want to dream again instead of only plotting ways to stay alive.

Krivax reluctantly pushed those thoughts aside; while he had his own wants and ambitions buried deep within his heart, they would have to wait.

He came to this village for a reason, after all.

The negotiations with the Chieftain had gone well, with Krivax agreeing to trade silk and ores for a variety of shellfish. He had suspected that shellfish would prove delicious to the nerubian palate, but he had not anticipated it being as good as it was.

Krivax and Masruk may or may not have… embarrassed themselves a little when they tried their first lobster.

Suffice to say, Krivax was confident shellfish would prove a stable trading good between Kilah’Kuk and Kamagua. He intended to look into other goods that the tuskarr could offer, such as surface world plants that could be used for alchemy, but trading silk for shellfish would suffice for now.

Aside from trading for shellfish, the two parties had also reached a few other agreements. While they had not yet developed enough trust to begin sharing their magic with one another, the Chieftain agreed that it was something they would be willing to consider.

What Krivax was most happy about was the agreement for them to mutually share stories and knowledge. After all, that was how Krivax intended to find evidence of the existence of other continents.

“Thank you, Krivax. You are a good teacher,” Pelle said with a smile.

While Krivax was not himself a Weaver, like most nerubians, he knew enough about the intricacies of working with nerubian silk to teach the Seamstress. Nerubian silk possessed many special properties, and training was needed if someone wanted to use it for crafting. Once she was done with her training, Pelle would go on to teach the rest of the tuskarr seamstresses.

Krivax spent the next few minutes finishing up his lesson with Pelle before deciding to go find Masruk.

Just as he was about to make his way to the part of the village set aside for warriors to practice, he was interrupted by a soft whistling sound near his feet. When he looked down, Krivax saw a tiny tuskarr child who was wrapped up in a snug little fur coat whistling at him and lifting his arms.

Huffing in amusement, Krivax bent down, lifted up the child, and placed him on his back.

The people of Kamagua had been cautious and fearful of the two nerubians at first, but their friendly and peaceful nature quickly shone through. Karfu was a tuskarr child whose mother had passed away recently and whose father was frequently out to sea. The kid was extremely quiet and barely talked, but he did spend most of his time wandering around Kamagua and watching the various villagers work with curiosity. Once the villages had started to warm up to him, Karfu had taken to quietly riding on Krivax’s back while he went about his business.

Krivax couldn’t help but indulge the kid; tuskarr children were unfairly adorable with their oversized heads and tiny little fur coats.

Without comment, Karfu quietly settled into a comfortable position while Krivax made his way to find Masruk.

The first thing Krivax saw when he reached the training area was the predictable sight of Masruk sparring with Kagonut. Turning to the side and laying down so that Karfu could get a better view of the spectacle, Krivax decided to wait until they were finished before going to speak to his friend.

While the spar looked to be evenly matched, Krivax knew that was only because Kagonut was holding back significantly. While Masruk was talented in combat, his mere four years of experience simply could not compete with the tuskarr warrior. Though to his credit, Kagonut was one of the most skilled warriors in Kamagua and Masruk had handily defeated some of their younger warriors.

Krivax watched as the two warriors traded quick blows with incredible amounts of force. Masruk was skilled with his spear and was good at moving quickly and attacking from unexpected angles, but Kagonut moved faster than any giant walrus person had a right to and seemed as stable as a mountain.

Eventually, the fight ended with Masruk defeated and Kagonut looking smug and none the worse for wear. Karfu started to clap his hands in excitement and let out little whistling noises.

Krivax knew his friend would try to get back to fighting almost immediately, so he decided to call out to him first before he could.

“Masruk!”

Krivax stood back up carefully so as to not throw off Karfu as his friend made his way over to him.

“Krivax, do you need help with something?” asked Masruk.

“Not really, buddy,” said Krivax. “I just wanted to remind you about our meeting later today.”

Krivax knew that his friend could be a little… absentminded when his attention was focused on combat. It was a good idea to occasionally remind him about important matters.

“...What meeting?”

Krivax sighed in exasperation and Karfu patted his back in what seemed to be comfort. The boy was quiet but had a talent for understanding what others were feeling.

“Our meeting with Vizier Hadix. I need to scry him later today after I’m done speaking with Elder Wumni.”

“Ah, yes. I will be there,” said Masruk. Krivax felt amused as his friend turned back to look at the warriors as soon as he was done speaking.

“Alright, thanks. Have fun practicing.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Masruk turned around and started to head back to the tuskarr warriors, most of whom seemed to enjoy his company. Krivax was glad to see his friend so easily getting along with the tuskarr.

With his message delivered, Krivax started walking to Elder Wumni’s home with a sense of anticipation. The old shaman had agreed to answer questions about their culture and share some tuskarr legends, and Krivax was hopeful he might be able to use this opportunity to gain his first hints of the existence of other continents.

Wumni’s home was located near the Chieftain's and was not particularly distinct from any of the other buildings in the village. The entrance did not have an actual door and was instead covered by a heavy sealskin, so Krivax settled on calling for the Elder instead of knocking.

“Elder Wumni! I’m here for our meeting,” Krivax yelled into the building.

“Come inside, boy! Why are you standing outside my home and making all that noise?”

Well alright then.

Krivax skittered into the Elder's home with Karfu still securely settled on his back. The inside of the building was much like the Chieftain’s, except for the various herbs and animal parts laying around that Krivax assumed were used for the old tuskarr’s shamanism.

Wumni herself was seated on what looked to be a comfortable pile of seal hide pillows while carving symbols into what Krivax assumed was a piece of whalebone.

“Feed the calf and sit down while I finish,” said Wumni, pointing to a pile of pillows and a nearby bowl filled with fish without looking at him.

Seeing no reason to argue, Krivax picked up a fish and handed it to Karfu who immediately started to nibble on it. After finding a comfortable position, Krivax lowered himself to the ground and curled his feet underneath his body.

Once the shaman was done with… whatever she was doing, Wumni put away the bone and turned her attention to Krivax and Karfu.

“You indulge that boy too much,” said Wumni after casting a translation spell with a wave of her hand.

Krivax had made a lot of progress in learning the tuskarr language, but a week’s work of effort was not enough for him to reach a level of mastery acceptable to Wumni.

“Karfu is very well-behaved,” said Krivax while patting the young tuskarr on the head. Karfu ignored him and continued to eat his fish. “He’s not a bother, so I feel no reason to deny him if he just wants to ride on my back.”

“He’ll get fat and lazy if he doesn’t use those stubby little legs of his,” said Wumni with a huff. Karfu directed a mulish glare in her direction, but the Elder ignored him. “You’re here earlier than I expected. Are you that excited to learn about our people, boy?”

“Learning new things is always exciting to me, Elder.”

“Just call me Wumni. I’m not interested in hearing you end every sentence with ‘Elder.’”

“Of course, Wumni,” Krivax said easily. Nerubian society had forced him to grow accustomed to a certain degree of formality, but if the Elder preferred to be addressed casually then he wouldn’t complain.

“If I’m remembering right, you said that you wanted to learn about our gods, correct?” asked Wumni.

“That’s correct. I specifically wanted to know how your gods compared to the Drakkari’s Loa.”

“The difference is our gods don’t demand our worship. We give it freely,” Wumni said derisively. “Any spirit that requires you to worship them before they offer you anything are spirits that any shaman with sense would run away from. Tayutka, Karkut, Issliruk, and Oacha’noa do not need our worship nor do they interfere with mortal affairs, unlike the Drakkari’s Loa. We honor them because they guide and aid our people.”

From there, Wumni went on to share more specific details about the tuskarr gods. Tayutka was a female tuskarr shaman who became a powerful spirit after her death that continued to aid her people by guiding Fishermen away from danger and to large catches. Karkut the Dark One was responsible for shepherding tuskarr spirits to the afterlife, Issilruk was the spirit of war and weather, and Oacha’noa was the goddess of the depths and wisdom.

Oacha’noa was the only one Krivax knew for certain existed given that she appeared in the game as a kraken Wild God.

After she was done speaking, Krivax reciprocated by telling her some of the nerubian legends about the Old Gods. More specifically how legends said how the nerubians had become ‘enlightened’ and turned away from the worship of beings who at best were casually cruel and destructive even to their own worshippers, treating them no better than tools to be used and discarded.

Nerubians did not worship anything anymore—they believed that gods could not be trusted to care for the wellbeing of mortals—and the Old Gods were considered to be mere stories at this point in time. Krivax had actually never met a single nerubian who believed that the Old Gods existed at all, but he had suspicions that the nerubian leadership might know the truth.

Whenever he attempted to discreetly research the matter he would find any information related to the Old Gods to be… suspiciously vague. He probably would not have noticed if he did not already know the truth, but it was suspicious enough that Krivax had put aside all attempts to research the Void or the Old Gods.

He didn’t have much to tell her, but by the time he was done Wumni seemed to be satisfied anyways, even if she found the legends themselves rightly disturbing.

“What else did you want to talk about?” Wumni asked when they were done talking about gods. “You have a look in your many eyes like you’re about to chomp down on a lobster.”

Krivax did his best to reign in his anticipation.

“I wanted to hear your people’s legends on the Sundering,” said Krivax. “My people have many theories about what caused it, but those theories are mostly speculation.”

The nerubians really had no idea what caused the Great Sundering. Many of their theories came close—in that they believed that the elves were most likely to blame—but from their perspective, one day the land simply exploded and they had no idea why. Krivax had been unable to verify whether the nerubians had even been aware of the Burning Legion’s first invasion.

“The Sundering? Sorry boy, but we don’t know what happened either,” Wumni said with a frown. “According to Oacha’noa, there was some kind of war going on at the time, but she’s not willing to talk about it.”

“That’s a shame,” Krivax said casually. “My people would like to know what destroyed the rest of the continent. The old world was a land of many wonders, according to legend. It’s a shame that these lands are all that is left of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Wumni said incredulously. “This land is not all that is left of the old world. There is still plenty of land across the sea.”

Bingo.

“What?!” Krivax exclaimed in fake astonishment. “How could you possibly know that? ”

“I’ve never been there myself, but I’ve been told that people from lands beyond the sea sometimes trade with the Moa’ki clan,” Wumni said with a frown. “I’m surprised that people as supposedly advanced as yours do not know about the other lands.”

“My people tend to keep to themselves, and have been isolated underground for thousands of years for the most part. If what you say is true, then I am not surprised we do not know of it,” Krivax explained to Wumni. “Still, I’m certain our people would be glad to know about this.”

“And what will your people do with this information?” Wumni asked with open suspicion.

“Nothing bad,” Krivax said hurriedly. “But I do think they might be interested in sending people to the other lands to learn more about them.”

Wumni glared at him with suspicion while Krivax did his best to look like an innocent spider person and Karfu did his best to open the shell of a crab with his tiny teeth.

Eventually, the Elder Shaman just huffed, “Bah! Far be it from me to tell you how your people should act with those far from these lands, but if you embarrass yourself don’t go getting our names involved.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Krivax said with mock sincerity.

Krivax and Wumni spent the rest of the meeting talking about the lands beyond the sea, sharing various legends, and comparing different parts of their cultures.

For example, both of their species highly valued communal cooperation, but differed in how they treated interpersonal relationships with tuskarr strongly believing in strong family units while nerubian families as a concept just didn’t exist. Wumni thought that kind of life must be incredibly lonely while Krivax explained they still had relationships and friendships, but they weren’t as… ‘expressive’ as tuskarr ones.

Krivax also tried to figure out if Wumni knew anything about any wars taking place on the lands across the sea, or if she knew anything about the Dark Portal, but Wumni seemed to care little about things happening so far away.

By the time they were ready to finish, Karfu was barely able to stay awake.

“Leave the calf here,” said Wumni as Krivax got up to leave.

Krivax nodded in agreement and gently placed Karfu down on the pile of pillows before turning to leave. Just as he was about to walk out of Wumni’s home, a soft voice stopped him.

“Bye…”

Krivax turned and gave a short wave to the tiny tuskarr. “Goodbye, Karfu. Sleep well.”

After Krivax left the house and stepped outside, he was startled to realize that the sun was already starting to go down.

I must have spent much longer talking to Wumni than I thought.

He didn’t have much time before he needed to speak with Hadix, so Krivax hurriedly collected his friend and dragged him off to the building that the tuskarr used to house guests.

Once they were both in their shared room, Krivax retrieved the scrying crystal from his spatial bag, mounted it on a small platform, and quickly started casting the necessary spells. After a few minutes, violet glyphs began to appear before the crystal and the visage of Vizier Hadix appeared on its surface.

“Initiate Krivax, I was starting to believe you had completely forgotten about me, that or died,” Hadix said with mild irritation.

“I apologize for being late, Vizier,” said Krivax, lowering his head in contrition. “I was speaking with the tuskarr’s eldest shaman and found myself losing track of time.”

“Hmph. Do not allow it to happen again,” Hadix said sternly. “Now, report to me everything that has happened since you left for the surface.”

“Yes, Vizier.”

Krivax spent the next half hour detailing their first contact with the tuskarr, their subsequent meeting with the Chieftain, and the agreement to trade silk for shellfish. Masruk remained mostly quiet, although he did share his own perspective at times.

Once he was done, Hadix paused for a moment in consideration before speaking.

“If these ‘shellfish’ are as delicious as you say and these people are willing to give them to us for something as worthless as a few common ores and some low-level silk, then I suppose this deal will be to our benefit,” said Hadix offhandedly. “There are some who would enjoy more options for luxury food.”

Krivax knew that Hadix probably considered such luxuries to be frivolous, so he wasn’t surprised by the faint dismissiveness he heard in the Vizier’s tone. If he wanted to impress the man, he would need to present something more… materially beneficial.

“Is that all, Initiate?” asked Hadix with disinterest. “If so, then I have experiments that require my attention.”

Here we go, Krivax thought nervously.

“No, Vizier. I have something else to report,” Krivax said hesitantly.

Krivax reported to Hadix what Wumni had said about the existence of other continents. While the topic seemed to catch the Vizier’s immediate attention, he at first seemed to believe the Shaman was merely sharing a tuskarr fairy tale. It was only after Krivax informed him that the tuskarr had personally met with people from other continents that the Vizier began to show… extreme interest.

Once Krivax was done telling the Vizier everything he knew, Hadix remained silent for nearly a minute while he absorbed the information.

“One moment, Initiate,” said Hadix, speaking suddenly into the silence.

Krivax grew confused as the image of Hadix disappeared and the scrying crystal grew dark.

Did he just hang up on me?

Suddenly, both Krivax and Masruk lept back in surprise as a bright violet light materialized in the center of their room. Their surprise only increased when the light faded to reveal that Vizier Hadix had decided to teleport into their temporary home.

“Hello, Initiate,” said Hadix, focusing completely on Krivax and ignoring Masruk. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Krivax was rendered speechless as he stared dumbly at the Vizier. He had expected that Hadix would show an interest in news of people from a different continent, but he had not expected the Vizier to brazenly teleport into his temporary home. He had not been prepared for such an… intense reaction from the normally aloof Hadix.

Krivax glanced worriedly at the doorway, half expecting Elder Wumni to come running in and start berating the Vizier for entering the village uninvited. Understanding his concern, Masruk quickly moved closer to the entrance and positioned himself so that nobody could come in without pushing him aside.

“Cease your worrying,” Hadix said dismissively, one arm waving through the air and trailing arcane energy. “I have already placed privacy wards that will ensure we remain undisturbed. Now, repeat everything you have told me.”

Seeing no other option, Krivax once again told the Vizier everything that Wumni had heard about the foreigners from lands across the sea. While he did, the Vizier stared at him with an intense focus that made Krivax feel distinctly uncomfortable. For as long as he has known the Vizier, he has always given off a feeling of disinterest in nearly everything not related to his own studies, so his current focus seemed distinctly out of character.

When Krivax was done talking, the Vizier continued to stare at him silently for a few moments before speaking.

“From now on, finding evidence to support or disprove these claims is your highest priority,” said Hadix, more serious than Krivax had ever seen him. “This is more important than your shellfish or the tuskarr’s shamanism or your desire to make ‘friends’ with the surface races. If you fail to find this evidence then I will find it myself, and I doubt the tuskarr will be as welcoming anymore when I am done. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Vizier Hadix. I understand,” said Krivax. It was fortunate that this was already his highest priority because he could tell that the Vizier would not accept any other answer.

“Good,” said Hadix. After Krivax signaled his acquiescence the Vizier relaxed significantly. He even decided to walk over to one of the baskets of shellfish sitting in the corner of the house and pick it up with a look of faint curiosity. “Go ahead and ask your questions, Initiate.”

Krivax calmed down as the Vizier seemed to relax. If Hadix was inviting him to ask, then he didn’t see a need to hold back.

“Yes, Vizier. Why did you decide to come here personally?” Krivax asked hesitantly. “Why not simply tell me this through the scrying crystal?”

“Hmph. I suppose my reaction must seem disproportionate to you,” said Hadix as he picked up one of the shrimp and examined it. “You are young, and there are many things about this world you do not yet know and I cannot yet tell you.”

The Vizier bit into shrimp and his expression turned into one of pleasant surprise before quickly fading back into its usual stoicism.

“I decided to come here for three reasons,” Hadix continued. “First, I wanted to be here in person as you retold me the shaman’s words. Second, I wanted to impress upon you the seriousness of the situation.”

Krivax watched as the Vizier cracked open a lobster with one of his hands and started to pick apart its insides.

“And the third?” Krivax asked cautiously.

"I wanted to bring you this," said Hadix. The Vizier idly pulled out a small black and gold figurine that was shaped like a spider from a small spatial bag tied to his robe with one of his back arms. Krivax could easily feel the magic it radiated. "This tool will allow you to telepathically control a few of the non-sapient skitters or flyers, while also allowing you to control larger groups of more common insects and arachnids if the need arises."

Krivax looked at the enchanted figurine in disbelief. He knew nerubians had a natural ability to control and dominate non-sapient spiders, bugs, and the like, but unless you were a Spiderlord that was usually on the small scale. He had heard of these things before, but he had never seen one in person. As far as he knew, only the higher castes would possess these magical artifacts, so Krivax was immediately suspicious of Hadix's motivations for giving him one.

Still, it wasn't as if he could say no, so Krivax hesitantly took the figurine and stored it in his own spatial bag. There would be time to examine it later when there wasn't a Vizier standing right in front of him.

"Thank you, Vizier," Krivax said while bowing low in an expression of gratitude. "But if I may ask, why have you chosen to give this to me?"

"That's simple. Because your time has significantly grown in value and your safety has become more important to me," Hadix said matter of factly. "The skitters and flyers will not only offer you additional protection but they can also be used to transfer trading goods between Kilah'Kuk and this village. I want you to gather evidence, not waste time acting as a courier."

That made sense to Krivax, even if he was still suspicious of the Vizier's intense interest.

"I understand,” said Krivax. While Hadix was here—and since he was already eating it—he might as well get the Vizier's opinion on the shellfish. “On the topic of the shellfish, do you believe they will be popular as a long-term trading good, Vizier?”

Hadix paused as he was lifting a crawfish to his mandibles. “They are adequate, Initiate. I believe these ‘shellfish’ will be popular amongst the city’s leadership. I suspect the funding our Division will receive will increase significantly as a result. Well done.”

Given how much it looks like you’re enjoying them, I think they’re a little more than adequate…

“If there is nothing else, then I will make my departure,” said Hadix. “I will arrange for the skitters and flyers to be sent to your location. Inform the tuskarr before they arrive. It would be a waste if they were needlessly killed.”

Without waiting for a response, the Vizier disappeared in a flash of violet light.

Once the light faded and the room became quiet, Krivax only had to spend a few moments thinking about their conversation before he reached an obvious conclusion.

Vizier Hadix was hiding something.

Krivax had known the Vizier for over a year and in all that time he had never seen Hadix show this level of interest in anything. He often wondered why the mage was assigned to the Surface World Research Division when he never revealed any actual interest in the surface.

The more he thought about it, the more Krivax realized how little he knew about the Vizier who had supported him since he joined the Circle.

“Krivax, is the Vizier always like that?” asked Masruk as he returned from guarding the entrance.

“No, he’s not usually that intense,” said Krivax.

“Then you should be careful. Until you understand his motivations you should be wary of him,” Masruk said with concern in his voice.

“I’ll be careful,” said Krivax. “But I think we should be fine. It’s not like he asked me to do anything that I wasn’t already planning on doing anyway.”

“I will ask the warriors what they know about the lands beyond the sea when I speak to them tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Masruk,” said Krivax with genuine gratitude. “I appreciate your help, buddy.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Masruk. He paused before continuing to speak with slight hesitation. “The surface is… much more interesting than I had expected. If these unknown lands exist, then I believe I would enjoy seeing them for myself.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Krivax said fondly. Masruk had really begun to flourish during their stay in Kamagua. Not only had his skills as a warrior improved by being exposed to new fighting styles, but he had also become slightly less reserved amongst the friendly tuskarr and shown an increased curiosity in the world.

The two nerubians spent a few more minutes discussing their plans for the coming day, before deciding it was time to go to sleep. They both knew that tomorrow was likely to be an eventful day for Krivax.

It was still funny to see how confused Masruk got about the day-night cycle of the world, and how most creatures slept after the sun went down.

Tomorrow he would need to have another conversation with Wumni and the Chieftain so he could attempt to negotiate for him to be introduced to the Moa’ki clan. Krivax had intended to wait a little longer for him to earn some more trust, but Vizier Hadix had made it explicitly clear that waiting long without showing results was not an option.

However, he was not too worried. Krivax did not believe Wumni would be particularly opposed to arranging a meeting as long as he did not cause any trouble for her people.

Just as Krivax started to skitter over to his nest of pillows and webs after having decided that tomorrow’s problem could wait until the morning, he realized something important.

Vizier Hadix had stolen all of their shellfish!

Hadix shrugged off the discomfort inherent to long-distance teleportation with practiced ease as he reappeared in his laboratory.

Placing the basket full of delicious aquatic arthropods somewhere safe, Hadix moved quickly to clean up his alchemical experiments. He had believed that he would have enough time to finish brewing a few experimental elixirs after his meeting with the Initiate, but he now had more important things to do. Unfortunately, these elixirs were not stable enough for him to leave them unattended for long, so all of the expensive reagents that had gone into them would be wasted.

How unfortunate.

Still, compared to even the slight possibility that the rest of the old world had not been completely destroyed in the Great Sundering, even the most expensive of elixirs were a trifling matter.

Once Hadix ensured that his laboratory would not explode in a violent magical reaction while he was away, he started making his way to his personal chambers as quickly as he reasonably could without drawing unwanted attention. After all, a Vizier sprinting down the ziggurat’s hallways would raise more than a few questions.

Hadix paid no mind to the startled Initiates who scrambled out of his way. They were unimportant.

Once he was within the nondescript chamber in one of the ziggurat’s many rooms, Hadix shut the door behind him and cast his most powerful anti-scrying wards over the room. Some might consider his actions to be overly paranoid given the measures he had already taken to protect against spying, but Hadix felt it appropriate given the circumstances.

After he finished casting the wards, Hadix cast a deceptively complicated spell that caused a portion of the wall near a random bookcase containing basic tomes and scrolls to fade away. The illusion itself was fully solid until it was removed—something that very few were capable of—so it was the perfect place to hide things one wanted away from prying eyes.

Hadix ignored all of the valuable magical artifacts hidden in this secret alcove and retrieved an unassuming scrying crystal.

After placing the crystal in the center of the room and casting the spell to activate it, Hadix settled down to wait. He knew that the Vizier he was attempting to contact was frequently busy, so it would take some time before he could establish his own scrying orb in a secret location.

Thankfully, it seemed that the Vizier was able to move somewhere private quicker than Hadix expected because it was only fifteen minutes after he cast the scrying spell that the visage of Seer Ixit appeared in the scrying crystal.

“Hadix? Why are you scrying me? Has something happened?” said Ixit with audible tension.

“Yes, something has happened,” said Hadix, straight to the point. “An Initiate that I have been personally instructing has potentially discovered something that would be extremely important to the Order, and I intend to discover the truth of the matter as soon as possible. Your skills as a Seer would aid me greatly in doing so.”

“What is it, Hadix?” asked Ixit, his tension only increasing. “Speak clearly.”

“Very well.”

Hadix quickly told the Seer everything that he knew about the possibility that other portions of the supercontinent of the old world had survived the Sundering. Once he was done speaking, Hadix could see the concern he felt reflected in Ixit’s expression as the Seer agreed to use his magic in an attempt to divine the truth.

Using magic in an attempt to see the future or discover secrets was—more often than not—extremely unreliable. Not only were there very few people with the necessary talent, but there were simply too many complications inherent to such magic. The future itself was uncertain and trying to discern the more likely possibilities from the infinite timeways was a skill that required a lifetime to hone. It did not help that even if a Seer could accurately divine the future, the information they received was not always useful or only expressed in a cryptic manner.

Every Seer in Azjol-Nerub had received the same visions of a future in which a tide of death swept over their kingdom, but what were they supposed to do with that information?

Was that tide of death the result of a plague? Was it the result of a civil war? The reawakening of the vrykul?

Preparations had been made for a number of possibilities, but without knowing specifically what they were preparing for there was very little that they could do.

Fortunately, Hadix hopes that Ixit would be able to give him more useful information. Not only was Ixit the greatest Seer of his generation, but the information he was looking for was the kind of information Seers excelled at finding.

If the claims made by the tuskarr shaman were true, then the future had likely changed significantly the moment Initiate Krivax had brought the matter to Hadix’s attention. If Azjol-Nerub were to discover the existence of lands beyond the sea, then the future consequences of that should be large enough for Ixit to uncover.

Especially since the Seer knew exactly what to look for.

Hadix waited patiently as Ixit attempted to divine knowledge from the indeterminate future. From an outside perspective, watching the Seer quietly mutter to himself for several minutes was rather uneventful.

When the Seer finished his divination and turned his attention back to Hadix, his expression was solemn.

“I foresee a period of great political upheaval and an era of change in our kingdom’s future,” said Ixit.

Hadix and Ixit both remained silent for several moments as they allowed the implications of that to sink in.

“How could we have possibly missed this?” asked Hadix in disbelief.

“You know how insular and stagnant the leadership in the capital is,” Ixit said wearily. “The village of tuskarr who have supposedly met with people from across the sea is in Dragonblight. It’s not surprising that this would escape their notice.”

“I know better than anyone how useless those self-important fools are,” Hadix said derisively. “I’m not asking how they missed this. I’m asking how we did.”

Ixit was silent for several moments before he responded. “The Order’s observation of the surface races has only ever been conducted with the intent of searching for the Old Ones’ influence. If we didn’t find anything, then I suspect we simply moved on without looking any deeper.”

“Well, that was obviously a mistake,” Hadix said bluntly.

“There is still some chance it’s not true,” said Ixit, sounding as if even he did not believe his own words.

“I doubt it.”

While Seers were not always reliable, this was already enough to convince Hadix of the shaman’s claims, even if he recognized it would not be enough to convince the kingdom’s leadership. They would no doubt care little for the words of a primitive shaman from a ‘lesser’ race, and they would likely also dismiss the findings of the Seer.

Azjol-Nerub took great pride in being the most advanced civilization in the world, but how could they continue to make such claims if they didn’t even know what else existed in it? There would be many who would wish to dismiss the existence of lands across the sea and continue to believe that only their land was what was left after the Great Sundering.

However, while Hadix did look down on the more primitive races, he was wise enough to recognize that primitive was not the same as stupid. The tuskarr possessed the most significant maritime tradition of the known surface races; the idea that someone could have fooled them into believing in such a lie was far-fetched.

There was also simply no perceivable motivation for somebody to tell such a story if it was not true.

Hadix and Ixit spent the next hour discussing what they should do with this information. Eventually, they both decided that it would be best for them to acquire stronger evidence before they could bring this to the Order or the kingdom’s leadership.

Ixit agreed to send a few flyers to surveil the tuskarr in Dragonblight.

Once they were done, Hadix returned the scrying crystal to his secret alcove and allowed himself to take a moment to come to terms with the implications of what he had learned.

All of his instincts were telling him that the lands across the sea existed.

If they did, then that meant the prisons of the other Old Ones likely still existed as well and were potentially accessible to any mortal who finds them.

If that were to be the case, then that would change… everything.

Chapter Text

Krivax glared at the village of murlocs—situated on the smaller island south of the Isle of Spears—as he stood safely behind Masruk and the band of tuskarr composed of warriors from both Kamagua and the nearby village of Iskaal.

Thankfully, they had been able to successfully ambush the group of patrolling murlocs and hide without attracting attention. However, they did not have much time before the murlocs discovered something was wrong, so they would need to act soon.

The White Shark Tribe’s newest leader had recently been leading the murlocs to attack Kamagua’s fishermen, and several tuskarr had already been killed. Murlocs had always been one of the deadliest threats that Kamagua and Iskaal faced at sea, but that threat had grown enough recently that the tuskarr had decided to launch an attack on the village that housed the tribe’s Chieftain.

While Krivax and Masruk were not necessarily required to participate, Krivax found himself wanting to help despite the danger to himself. The tuskarr had treated him well, and Masruk had even become acquainted with one of the fishermen who had been killed. As far as he could tell, the murlocs had no other intentions other than killing fishermen and stealing their food and equipment.

When Krivax had asked Wumni if diplomacy with the murlocs was possible, the shaman merely looked at him strangely and told him that all the attempts that the tuskarr had made in the past had failed due to the frogmen’s constant hostility.

Krivax believed that if diplomacy were possible, then the peaceful tuskarr would have found a way to negotiate an agreement with them a long time ago.

Since peace was not an option, then Krivax might as well help them fight. Besides, Kamagua had agreed easily to arrange an introduction to the Moa'ki clan without asking for anything in return, aside from the continuation of their trading agreement, so Krivax felt like he owed them one.

Krivax could feel his tension increasing as Kagonut and Chieftain Atuk quietly gave instructions to the group of grim-faced tuskarr warriors. Once the tuskarr was sufficiently prepared, Kagonut turned his attention to Krivax and, with a determined expression, gave him a single nod, signaling that it was time to start the assault.

Krivax returned the nod and telepathically directed the two flyers that were by his side to fly over the village.

Once they were there, Krivax instructed them to drop the arcane silk bombs they were carrying, which resulted in an explosion of arcane energy that managed to injure several murlocs and tangling up more in webbing. Krivax had spellwoven much more magic into those bombs than the ones he used when sparring with Masruk.

While the murlocs were disoriented and screaming amongst themselves in their strange language, Chieftain Atuk released a bellowing war cry and led the tuskarr warriors’ charge on the village.

While the Chieftain was not Kamagua’s most powerful warrior, his leadership greatly increased the morale of the warriors present.

Their speed increased dramatically as Elder Wumni pounded her gnarled staff onto the ground and cast magic that increased the strength of the tuskarr warriors. Once that was done, the elderly woman began to throw bolts of lightning from her hands that instantly killed any murloc that they hit.

Masruk stood back to wait for an opportune moment. He would be able to charge much faster than the tuskarr, so it would be wise for him to wait as support.

The charging tuskarrs smashed into the confused murlocs like an unstoppable wave of violence.

The much heavier tuskarrs pushed their way into the center of the village and began skewering murlocs with their long spears or simply trampling them with their weight. While murlocs were extremely dangerous and agile in the water, they were much less of a threat while on land.

Krivax was casting Frost Bolts in the direction of the murloc spellcasters when he felt the murloc Chieftain exit his hut and step onto the battlefield with a gurgling war cry. The murlocs who had been panicking and were moments away from fleeing into the ocean suddenly attacked the tuskarr with a savage ferocity.

The murloc shamans also cast their own spells to increase the speed and strength of their own warriors, enhancing their own forces with magic while also blasting at the tuskarr with water and earth spells.

Every tuskarr suddenly found themselves defending against two or three murlocs who jumped at them with primitive weapons and razor-sharp teeth. The murloc Chieftain himself was a hulking creature who wielded a well-crafted harpoon that had obviously been stolen from a tuskarr.

Chieftain Atuk and Kagonut immediately focused on trying to kill the murloc Chieftain, and Masruk charged at full speed and spear first into the largest group of murlocs.

From there, Krivax lost himself in the tide of battle as he frantically cast Frost Bolts at any murloc that he could. Several times, murlocs turned their attention to him only to find themselves fixed to the ground by a well-timed Frost Nova and then quickly killed by Orfus, who had been assigned by the Chieftain to protect him.

Krivax distantly noted that the flyer he had sent to distract the murloc Chieftain during his battle had been killed.

Finally, just as he was starting to tire and his Ice Barrier was beginning to strain from absorbing stray hits, the murlocs broke and began wildly running to the ocean. Krivax turned his attention to the murloc Chieftain, only to see his corpse hanging from the end of Kagonut’s spear.

Krivax pushed down the bile at the back of his throat and made his way to Masruk. Once he verified that his friend was alright, Krivax moved to assist the tuskarr in tending to their wounded.

Thankfully, nerubian silk made for good battlefield bandages.

A part of him had been expecting the tuskarr to celebrate their victory, but he saw nothing but solemn expressions on the tuskarr as they tore down the murlocs’ huts, recovered their stolen items, and collected their dead and wounded.

As Krivax made his way back to Kamagua with the rest of the group, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about the corpses of the dead murlocs and tuskarrs. It didn’t help that some of those murlocs had been killed by him personally.

The moment Krivax realized where he had been reborn, he started to mentally prepare himself to witness scenes of violence, but watching a murloc bite off pieces of a tuskarr was not something he was ready for.

“Krivax, are you alright?” asked Orfus with a concerned expression on his face. “I am not well versed in your people’s body language, but you seem uncomfortable.”

Masruk walked to his side, offering his silent support.

“I’m alright, Orfus,” said Krivax, attempting to reassure the tuskarr warrior. “I just… was not fully prepared for that.”

“Was this your first real battle?” Orfus asked sympathetically.

“Yes, but I’ll be fine. I’ll just have to get used to things like this.”

“I understand,” Orfus said kindly. “Some of the younger warriors have trouble adjusting after their first battle as well. You’re doing very well for your first time.”

“Thank you, Orfus.”

“Just remember, while we should always strive for peace, sometimes there are no other options other than to fight,” said Orfus. “When those times come, we must push aside our reservations and fight with all of our might to protect what we hold dear. The world would be a better place if more people were as empathetic as you, Krivax, but that is unfortunately not the world we live in.”

Krivax took a moment to absorb those words before thanking the tuskarr and turning his attention to his friend.

“How are you feeling, Masruk?”

“I am well,” Masruk said evenly. “Warrior Nishalmis made considerable efforts to acclimate me to such violence before I was allowed to go to the surface.”

Krivax didn’t like the sound of that, but it was to be expected. Even though the Warriors of Azjol’Nerub had not experienced war for millennia, they still made active efforts to be ready for anything and dealt with the occasional outbreak of unfriendly underground creatures.

According to Masruk, the Warriors had even increased their training in recent years, though he did not know the reason.

Soon enough, their group made their way back to the village and the surviving tuskarr warriors reunited with their worried families while the Chieftain informed the families of the deceased about the fate of their loved ones.

Thankfully, natural tuskarr hardiness meant there was nothing among the wounded that was so serious that required Wumni’s magical attention at this time.

Krivax knew there was nothing for him to do here, so after telling Masruk where he was going, he decided to follow Wumni as the old woman made her way to her home since she had not spoken at all after the battle was over and he was a little worried about her. Mana exhaustion was not an unknown thing among nerubians after all, and given her advanced age, it might mean that Wumni was very tired out after helping in battle.

As he made his way through the village, Krivax made note of all the changes that had come to Kamagua over the past month.

Many of the villagers were now wearing clothing that was partially composed of Flameweave silk, and some of the buildings had even used silk to reinforce their structures. Krivax could also see many more metal tools than he remembered there being when he first arrived, and nearly every single boat near the docks contained nets and ropes made of nerubian silk.

Most importantly, those nets helped dramatically increase the amount of food that the fishermen could bring in.

Until today, Krivax had watched as the tuskarr steadily grew happier as their standard of living increased due to their ability to trade with the nerubians. The shellfish were well received by the leadership of Kilah’Kuk, and Hadix had assigned most of his Division’s idle administrators to handle trade between Kamagua and Kilah’Kuk. There was even some attempt to expand upon the goods that were traded with the surface world in the form of useful herbs and other potential alchemical reagents from local flora and fauna.

The skitterers that had been sent to Krivax were now almost permanently running spatial bags to and from Kamagua, and the Surface World Research Division had more funding than ever before.

It was a shame Krivax’s status as a baseline nerubian and his relative inexperience limited the number of flyers and skitterers that he could reliably control, even with the artifact. He would feel much safer if he had a swarm of the creatures protecting him at all times.

There had been an attempt to use flyers to transport goods, but after the first few spatial bags were lost to wandering proto-dragons, Krivax decided it would be best if they stuck with the skitterers.

Only time would tell how far this relationship would be able to grow.

Krivax entered Elder Wumni’s home without announcing himself, as he had learned that the shaman was able to sense his approach. Once he saw her, he could see that the Elder had just finished drinking some manner of potion and seemed to be gathering what looked to be items for a ritual.

“It seems like you’ll be able to watch one of our funeral ceremonies before you leave,” said Wumni after a moment of silence.

“Leave?”

“The spirits have informed me that Green Island will be arriving tomorrow,” said Wumni. “You have learned our language and earned our trust. Once Oomailiq has finished his preparations, you will leave for Moa'ki Harbor. Orfus will accompany you to facilitate the introductions.”

Krivax recognized Green Island as the name for the giant turtle that facilitated travel between Kamagua and Moa'ki Harbor. He didn’t know who Oomailiq was, but he assumed that they were the person who steered the turtle boat. Orfus being sent to accompany him was also no surprise.

After the tuskarr understood how significant establishing trade relations with Kilah’kuk would be to their village, Orfus decided to engrave a spider in his tusks to commemorate their first meeting.

For some reason that Krivax did not understand, that seemed to be enough for the tuskarr Elders to favor sending him to deal with nerubian related affairs.

The day after Hadix had ordered Krivax to make finding evidence of the lands across the sea his priority, he had gone to Wumni and the Chieftain and requested their aid. While Wumni was a bit suspicious and insistent on Krivax learning their language, they both had ultimately agreed to arrange for introductions with the Moa'ki clan so that he could ask them about the foreigners who they traded with.

Unfortunately, neither one of them knew exactly when Green Island would return, since it left not long before Krivax and Masruk showed up. Apparently, it took representatives from the other tuskarr villages home after a visit to Kamagua, so he had been forced to wait in Kamagua until the turtle arrived.

Thankfully, despite his earlier intensity, Vizier Hadix seemed willing to wait and was much more patient than Krivax expected. However, he had not forgotten the Vizier’s threat to find the evidence himself without giving any regard to their relations with the tuskarr, so Krivax had been growing more and more anxious with each day that Green Island failed to arrive.

But now, the turtle boat was finally about to arrive, and the time for Krivax to depart from Kamagua was fast approaching. It was a bittersweet feeling.

He would miss giving rides to Karfu and relaxing with the peaceful and kind villagers, but he knew that it was time for him to move on.

“Thank you,” Krivax said in gratitude, bowing despite the shaman’s distaste for formality. “We appreciate the help you’ve given us, and both I and Masruk have enjoyed the time we’ve spent in Kamagua.”

“You say that as if you’re never going to return,” Wumni said with a scoff. “With trade between our people continuing to increase, I doubt this is the last we’ll see of one another.”

Krivax sincerely hoped that to be true. If it were not for the looming threat of the Lich King, he wouldn’t mind continuing to spend time in Kamagua.

One day, I’ll come back here, Krivax vowed to himself.

“Come with me,” said Wumni as she began to walk out of the house. “You fought side by side with our warriors. You should watch as their spirits are guided to their statues.”

Krivax followed the shaman as she slowly walked through the village and made her way to the families of the deceased. He watched as Masruk and the surviving tuskarr warriors helped the families gather some personal effects to place next to the large stone head statues of the deceased. The bodies themselves had already been taken elsewhere so that the families were not forced to see them.

Tuskarr believed that it was not good for families to see the bodies of their loved ones if they were in poor condition. They instead preferred to visit them at their statues and remember them as they were.

The walk to the statues was a short one as they were placed in a nearby quarry so that the villagers could more easily reach them. It also helped that the materials to build new statues were also within reach.

The closer Krivax got to the statues, the stranger things started to feel to his magical senses. The energy that was given off by the statues did not feel like anything Krivax had ever felt before, and it gave him the impression of almost being… alive.

He could even feel one of the statues in particular scrutinize both him and Masruk as they drew closer.

He dearly hoped that the tuskarr ghosts living in the statues had a good impression of him.

Thankfully, whichever spirits were responsible for guarding this place had either already been informed about him and Masruk, or they were able to sense the lack of hostility the living tuskarr had towards them.

Once everyone arrived at the quarry, Chieftain Atuk did not waste any time before starting the funeral proceedings.

The first parts of the funeral were remarkably normal, in that the families were invited to say good things about the departed in front of everyone and then present the sentimental items that would be placed next to their statues.

Krivax was half expecting the objects to be favored weapons—given that all three of the deceased were warriors—but Orfus informed him that their weapons would be left for their descendants. Until recently, the tuskarr did not have enough metal for them to be able to justify losing perfectly good weapons and tools.

Once each of the families was finished presenting their items and telling stories about their loved ones, Elder Wumni stepped forward to oversee the next part of the ceremony.

The bodies of the deceased—who were covered with blankets made of animal hide so that the families would not see them—were brought before the old shaman as she prepared her ritual tools.

Krivax watched with rapt fascination as Wumni began to chant in a strange rhythmic language that he did not recognize. It sounded nothing at all like the tuskarr language, and Krivax felt himself grow curious about its origins. The only part of the chant that Krivax could understand was the frequent calls to Karkut, the tuskarr god of the dead.

He couldn’t help but feel distinctly uncomfortable as translucent figures began to rise from the corpses of the deceased and floated into their respective statues.

Krivax found himself wondering what, if anything, separated this from necromancy.

Once the ritual was complete and the spirits were safely transported to their statues, it felt to Krivax as if the entire quarry was gleefully welcoming the newly arrived tuskarr.

As the families went to speak with the statues of their loved ones and Krivax and Masruk followed everyone else back to the village, Krivax felt conflicted. Although attending a funeral was a morbid end to his stay in Kamagua, he was grateful that he had been allowed to attend.

Not only had the unusual ritual been strangely beautiful in its own way, but it had shown him that despite his metaknowledge, he truly knew little about this world and its magic. Krivax wished he was able to stay in Kamagua longer and learn more about their magic and statues.

I really hope that I’m able to keep my vow to return here one day.

Chapter Text

Krivax had gravely underestimated how boring a trip out to sea would be, especially one that lasted several weeks.

When Green Island first arrived in Kamagua, he had been filled with a sense of awe by the turtle's massive size and the wisdom held in its eyes. His farewells to the villagers had been met with expressions of gratitude, well wishes, and tearful goodbyes in the case of Karfu. While Krivax had felt sentimental about his departure from Kamagua, he had also felt excited and optimistic about beginning the next portion of his journey.

Now, after a little over two weeks of having nothing to do besides continuing his studies in spatial magics, his excitement had completely dissipated. Krivax was confident now that he was ready to attempt short-range teleportation, or “blinking” as it was called, but the back of a giant turtle in the middle of an arctic sea was not the appropriate place to test such magic.

Krivax idly noted Orfus glancing at him worriedly as he released a forlorn sigh.

At least we should be arriving at Moa'ki Harbor today, according to Oomailiq.

During the trip, Krivax had exhausted every question he could think of to ask Orfus about what they should expect when they arrived in Moa'ki Harbor. Orfus admitted that the Moa'ki would likely be similarly… startled by the appearance of the nerubians, just as he had been. His plan to avoid any unnecessary violence would be for Krivax and Masruk to simply hide away in the cabin while he explained things to them.

Orfus felt like this was absolutely necessary, because the tuskarr of Dragonblight were notably more militaristic than their counterparts in the Howling Fjord.

They were still a friendly people who were prone to seeking a peaceful resolution to their problems, but the increased risk of attacks from wolvar, yeti, and prides of magnataur had certainly affected their culture. There was a real risk that the tuskarr would attack the two nerubians if they were not warned about them beforehand.

“Krivax, is everything all right?” asked Orfus, visibly concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just not used to such long trips,” said Krivax. “Do you know how much longer we have until we arrive?”

“Well, according to Oomailiq, we could soon see Moa'ki Harbor appearing over the horizon at any moment,” said Orfus reassuringly. “You should enjoy the trip while you can, Krivax! Being surrounded by the ocean is an amazing experience!”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite share your enthusiasm,” Krivax said wryly as he glanced at the water surrounding the turtle boat. “My people are not as well suited for the water as your own.”

Attempting to swim with a nerubian body was not an experience that Krivax particularly enjoyed. Masruk seemed to enjoy swimming, but Krivax suspected his friend saw it as a challenge to overcome.

Krivax tried to pass the time with Orfus by making small talk, but unfortunately, they had already exhausted all topics of conversation that they could think of over the trip.

Krivax was considering whether or not he should follow Masruk’s example and weave a web that he could fall asleep on with the pair of flyers that he had brought, when his silent prayers were seemingly heard.

“We’re nearly there! The Broken Pillars peek over the horizon!” shouted Oomailiq from his position at the top of the deck.

Krivax eagerly skittered to the front of the deck and directed his gaze to the direction Oomailiq was pointing.

Sure enough, he could see the enormous shattered pillars of the Path of the Titans off in the distance. Krivax woke up Masruk, who was not as excited about looking at giant broken pillars as he was.

As Green Island grew closer and closer to the ancient structures, Krivax felt a sense of awe as their true size became apparent.

I really wish I could take a picture of this. I wonder if the gnomes have invented anything like cameras yet.

Once they passed the Path of the Titans, it was only a short while before they could see the kites flying over Moa'ki Harbor in the distance.

“Alright you two, I think it’s time for you to go below deck,” said Orfus. “I’ll yell for you to come out after I’m done warning the Moa'ki and it’s safe for you two to show yourselves..”

Krivax and Masruk both nodded their agreement and made their way below deck with the two flyers, where they were keeping the trading supplies. Kamagua and Iskaal had both purchased large amounts of goods from Kilah’Kuk that they intended to resell to the tuskarr of Dragonblight at a markup.

The nerubians were unable to trade directly with Moa'ki Harbor or the nearby village of Indu’le because the closest nerubian city was Azjol-Nerub’s capital city. Vizier Hadix had made some perfunctory attempts to convince the Circle of Viziers in the capital to allow for trade to take place from their city, but Krivax could tell that his heart was not in it. The capital city was the center of isolationist sentiment in the kingdom and rarely allowed anyone to use their gate to the surface for any reason.

Besides, as far as Vizier Hadix was concerned, if a trade route was established between the capital and Dragonblight’s tuskarr, then his Division wouldn’t be the ones profiting from it. Krivax was not too concerned one way or another; he understood that sapient greed would eventually push Azjol-Nerub to open itself up once the benefits of doing so grew too large to ignore.

If he was actually able to successfully establish a trading relationship with civilizations that could offer more than luxury food goods, then Azjol-Nerub’s time as a completely isolated kingdom was destined to become history.

Krivax and Masruk waited patiently below deck as Green Island pulled into port; soon he was able to hear the voices of unfamiliar tuskarr men, so he assumed that the guards had arrived.

The conversation between Orfus and the Moa'ki clan’s guards went on long enough for Krivax to begin growing nervous, but he eventually heard Orfus yelling for the two of them to come out onto the deck.

Krivax tentatively made his way up onto the deck, followed by Masruk, and was immediately met with the shocked yells of frightened tuskarr warriors.

As the leader of the tuskarr attempted to calm down his men, Krivax took a moment to look over the warriors. They seemed similar enough to warriors of Kamagua, given that they all wielded spears and were covered in various pieces of leather armor, but there were some differences as well.

The litany of scars that covered each of their bodies made it easy to tell that these warriors saw more frequent combat than the warriors of Kamagua. Many of those scars were likely made by the wolvar given that they seem to have been made by claws and fangs.

“Greetings, warriors of Moa'ki Harbor!” Krivax said as soon as the tuskarr managed to calm talk enough for them to hear him. “I am Krivax, and my companion is Masruk. We have come to your village with peaceful intentions toward your people and hope for the same. We present this fresh catch to you as a gift and proof of our character.”

Krivax finished up his speech by reaching into his spatial bag and pulling out an Emperor Salmon within a silk net to hold out to the group of tuskarr. Since it worked the first time he figured it only made sense to catch something the day they were expected to arrive to give to this new group.

The tuskarr looked between each other, likely dumbfounded that they were currently being addressed by a giant spider person.

After a few awkward moments, one of the tuskarr warriors stepped forward to address him. Krivax assumed that they were the leader of the group.

“Welcome to Moa'ki Harbor, outsiders. I am Shakukka,” said the tuskarr warrior with an accent that Krivax found strange. “I confess, I had not quite believed the words of the warrior from Kamagua, but if you offer no threat to the people of this village, then you are both welcome here and your gift of the sea’s bounty is gladly accepted,” he said as he took the net bag from Krivax’s hands.

“Thank you, Shakukka,” said Krivax. “I am glad to see that the Kalu’ak of the Moa'ki clan are as kind and welcoming as those in Kamagua and Iskaal. I greatly enjoyed the time I spent in Kamagua and look forward to being able to see your village as well. I have heard that it is quite beautiful.”

Krivax did not hear anything of the kind, but his flattering words had the intended effect of causing the tuskarr warriors to release most of their tension and puff up in pride.

“You heard correctly, outsider,” said Shakukka. “Come with me. I shall escort you all to the Chieftain so that you can make your introductions.”

“Before we go, there is one other matter,” said Orfus, interrupting the warriors as they were about to escort them to the village. “Kamagua has sent many more items than usual that they wish to use to trade with the Moa'ki clan and Indu’le village. I would request that some of your warriors aid us in removing them from Green Island.”

“Of course,” Shakukka said indulgently. “How many warriors do you need? One? Two?”

“Err… I think it would be best if I showed you so that you could make your own judgment,” said Orfus after a moment of hesitation.

Shakukka raised a bushy eyebrow but said nothing as he accompanied Orfus onto the turtle boat, hesitating only slightly as he passed the two nerubians, and followed him below deck.

The tuskarr warrior bellowed in surprise when he saw stacks upon stacks of silk and boxes filled with ores.

“What is all this?!”

“These are items that Kamagua acquired through trading with the nerubians,” said Orfus, only a little smugly. “The rolls of silk possess properties that make them perfect for weaving sturdy nets, ropes, and even clothes to keep you warm during the winter. The nerubians are also able to produce large amounts of metal ore. Kamagua is able to acquire more than enough of these for its needs, so our Elders decided to send a portion to Moa'ki Harbor for trade.”

The next time Shakukka turned his gaze to Krivax and Masruk, his expression was one that was filled with greed rather than apprehension.

“I see,” said Shakukka, obviously struggling to remain calm. “I will have all of my men help in bringing these items to the village.”

Krivax and Masruk spent the next few minutes helping the tuskarr unload all of the trading goods from Green Island. While they were doing this, Shakukka said some quiet words to one of the younger tuskarr warriors which sent the boy running back to the village.

Krivax assumed he would be informing the village leadership about what was happening so that they would have time to prepare for their arrival.

Once they were done, each of the warriors carried a box of valuable trading goods as Shakukka led them into the village from their wooden docks. Krivax kept the two flyers close to him in order to avoid frightening any of the villagers. He had left behind the skitterers so that they could save space on Green Island and so that they could continue carrying trading goods. Hadix indicated he would be willing to send more if they were needed, but Krivax felt like the flyers were enough for now.

The shocked faces of the villagers as they gawked at the two nerubians made Krivax feel a small sense of nostalgia for the first moment he walked into Kamagua. He couldn’t help but send a friendly wave to a young tuskarr calf who was staring at him with her mouth open.

Krivax chuckled as the young tuskarr girl jerked in surprise and hid shyly behind who he assumed to be her mother.

While Moa'ki Harbor seemed to be larger than Kamagua, the village seemed to be less prosperous than Kamagua was, even before they began to trade with Kilah’kuk. This did not particularly surprise Krivax given that the climate of Dragonblight was much harsher than that of the Howling Fjord.

There was noticeable damage on more than a few of the buildings, likely from past attacks, that has been repaired over and over again. Krivax even could see some tuskarr working to fix a hole in the outer walls with wood and whalebone. The whole place had a more fortified look to it, which made sense given that unlike the Isle of Spears threats from the land could—and apparently did—happen regularly.

Their group reached the Chieftain’s home fairly quickly since the building was very close to the harbor.

Once they were there, Shakukka instructed the nerubians and Orfus to wait outside while he spoke with the Chieftain. After a few moments, the tuskarr warrior reappeared and escorted Krivax into the building.

The first thing that Krivax noted when they entered the building was that the tuskarr Chieftain was the largest tuskarr that he had ever seen. The man was huge, well-muscled, possessed a large magnificent mustache, and had the tuskarr symbol for ‘Chieftain’ proudly carved into his enormous tusks.

The second thing that he noted was that the shamans of the Moa’ki clan seemed to wield spears rather than staves like the shamans of Kamagua and Iskaal. Krivax assumed that there was a greater emphasis on these shamans being able to fight than there was on the Isle of Spears.

Krivax felt like he would have a difficult time telling the difference between a shaman and a warrior in this village if he had not learned how to interpret the symbols tuskarr carved into their tusks.

Well, that and the magic he could feel radiating from their bodies.

Once everyone finished entering the building, the massive tuskarr began to speak in a deep voice.

“Greetings, outsiders. I am Chieftain Ko’nani. These are Elders Si’uigo, Duuqni, and To’a. Please introduce yourselves.”

“Well met, Chieftain Ko’nani,” said Orfus. “I am Orfus, warrior of Kamagua. These are Krivax and Masruk, two nerubians who have proven themselves to be friends of Kamagua and Iskaal. They have expressed an interest in traveling to Moa’ki Harbor, and I joined them with the intention of both facilitating introductions and arranging for trade between our villages.”

“Nerubians?” questioned Ko’nani. The Chieftain turned his gaze to the Elders, but they all shook their heads. “I have never heard of your people, and it seems my Elders have not either. Tell me about your people, nerubians.”

“Of course, Chieftain,” said Krivax. He spent the next hour giving the Chieftain and the Elders an abridged introduction to Azjol-Nerub and its society, much like the one he had given Chieftain Atuk and Elder Wumni.

It took quite a while for him to finish because the Chieftain and his Elders interrupted periodically to ask pointed questions and Orfus also interrupted to tell them about all of the benefits the Isle of Spears had received from trading with the nerubians.

Krivax suspected that the large amounts of goods that had been brought to the village had done much more to convince the Chieftain of the benefits of cooperation. When he was done speaking, Ko’nani seemed to be much more enthusiastic about their presence than Atuk had been.

“If you are able to help my people as much as Orfus claims, then you will always be welcome here, nerubians,” said Chieftain Ko’nani. “Would your people be interested in trading for shellfish from us as well as Kamagua?”

“Yes, Chieftain,” said Krivax. Azjol-Nerub was massive in comparison to the tuskarr villages and would be more than capable of taking any amount of shellfish that the tuskarr would be able to produce. “Unfortunately, this trade would need to take place using Kamagua and Iskaal as an intermediary.”

“Oh? Why is that?” asked Ko’nani, visibly displeased.

Krivax explained to the Chieftain that Kilah’kuk was too far from his village for trade to be easy and that he would not be able to get permission to travel to the surface from the city nearest to his village. The Chieftain did not like it but seemed to accept it once everything was fully explained to him.

“At least we still have something to trade even if we have to go through Kamagua and Iskaal,” said Elder To’a. “This Azjol-Nerub seems to only be interested in shellfish and herbs. I doubt Indu’le has anything you nerubians would be interested in.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Elder Si’uigo, turning a shrewd gaze to Krivax’s spatial pouch.

At her words, all of the Elders turned their attention to the spatial pouch, or more accurately, to the magic it was emanating.

“This magic feels similar to the magic of the Lothalor Woodlands,” said Elder Duuqni.

“The Lothalor Woodlands?” asked Krivax. It had been a long time since he had played World of Warcraft, and he wasn’t sure what the Elders were talking about.

“Indu’le Village is built along a lake that is the end point of a long river of magic similar to the magic coming from your bag,” explained Elder Si’uigo. “This river of magic has altered the very life of the nearby woods. I suspect that the trees and animals of these woods could be useful to your people.”

She’s talking about a ley line! If there is truly a ley line running under the ‘Lothalor Woodlands,’ then I’m sure there are plenty of things in there that the Circle of Viziers would be interested in.

Although shellfish were spreading quickly in Kilah’kuk—and were starting to disseminate into the rest of Azjol-Nerub—interest in the surface had still only moderately increased within the Circle of Viziers. This was because many of the Viziers looked down on shellfish as a novelty and a luxury good that did little to tangibly benefit the kingdom, according to Vizier Hadix.

If Indu’le were able to provide large amounts of magical regents, then interest in the surface would increase significantly within the Circle of Viziers, and hopefully the rest of the kingdom.

“That sounds like something my people would be extremely interested in,” said Krivax, barely holding back his excitement.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Chieftain Ko’nani. “But you can negotiate an agreement with Indu’le later. For now, I believe it best if we come to an agreement over the goods that were brought today, so that they can start helping my people. The wolvar have grown aggressive recently… well, more so than usual, and I want those ores delivered to our blacksmiths as quickly as possible.”

“Before we start the negotiations, there is something I need to ask you, Chieftain Ko’nani,” said Krivax. “I was told by Elder Wumni of Kamagua that your people sometimes trade with people from lands from across the sea. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is,” said Chieftain Ko’nani, growling slightly at the change in subject. “Why do you ask?”

“Just a topic I wish to speak about in more detail with you… after the trade talks of course,” Krivax said quickly. “I understand your urgency.”

“Very well, we will speak more on the topic later then,” the Chieftain said. “Now as to the goods in question…”

Krivax nodded his agreement and settled in for another long trade negotiation. Thankfully, Orfus would be the primary negotiator this time, as the goods technically belonged to Kamagua and Iskaal now.

As the negotiations dragged on, Krivax privately hoped that the Surface World Research Division would soon transition to using currency for all of their trading needs. Things would be much easier if they didn’t need to figure out how many lobsters a piece of iron ore the size of an average tuskarr fist was worth.

Barter may be the oldest form of trading, but it could get annoying at times and was terribly inefficient.

Chapter Text

“I believe that should cover everything,” Orfus of Kamagua said, sealing the deal with the ceremonial knot of trade, using a mix of knots from Moa'ki, Kamagua, and Iskaal.

While it wasn’t the fastest deal ever tied off, Chieftain Ko’nani in the end was glad it was done within only a few hours and a mutually beneficial agreement was made. Moa'ki Harbor would give the villages from the Isle of Spears their surplus of various stored food, especially shellfish to trade with the nerubians, as well as assurances of more of the same during lean times for the next year along with some of their stock of oil and skins. In the meantime, they got the ore and silk that was brought here to use as they saw fit, something that was quick to be done with a nod towards a nearby warrior who then left to let the rest of the village know just that.

The ore would be sent straight to the blacksmiths to make into tools, weapons, and whatever else the village needed, while the silk would be sent to the womanfolk to weave into various useful shapes. The latter especially would be interesting since apparently the silk could be used for more than just making clothes, but also nets, ropes, and even insulating and reinforcing structures if done right, which might speed up repairs of their outer wall before the next attack.

These nerubians certainly knew what their customers needed at least.

“Then the trade is made complete,” he finished with a nod, followed by the nodding heads of the various gathered Elders.

“Indeed, a great agreement all around,” Orfus nodded before looking back to his companions. “Now I believe these two had further questions.”

“Indeed, they were asking about those outsiders who come and trade with us?” Chieftain Ko’nani asked, recalling the spiderfolk’s question.

“Yes, for you see for the longest time my people were under the assumption that simply nothing existed beyond our shores, so the news that something does has caught our attention,” the one known as Krivax was quick to speak up, having looked quite bored but also full of energy during the whole period of trade talks, keeping himself quiet the whole time beyond some questions sent his way on the uses of the silk goods in question.

“Oh? Well, I suppose to be fair our people did for a long time too,” Chieftain Ko’nani. “We only really learned about it as well several generations ago.”

“A bit more than that, but yes, it was a bit of a surprise for us as well,” Elder Duuqni spoke up. “Apparently the local human communities throughout Dragonblight, and I hear also Grizzly Hills, descend from those from the east who shipwrecked themselves or even willingly came to live here.”

“The vrykuls’ stunted offspring? They came from the east?” the other quieter nerubian who had the feel of a warrior about him, Masruk, finally spoke up and asked with curiosity.

“We… do not know to what you refer,” Elder To’a admitted, confusion on the faces of all the kalu’ak present, even Orfus.

“Well you see, our records indicate that thousands upon thousands of years ago, before the Great Sundering even, that a local race of half-giants, the vrykul, who mainly make their home in the Howling Fjord region and have been sleeping in their keeps ever since, were suffering from a… ‘sickness’ that caused them to give birth to children who were much weaker and smaller than them, what would later be called humans. Their king, disgusted at their weakness, at the time ordered them all killed, but despite this it seems they have survived to the present day. If what you say is true… then our assumption of their continued presence in this land is not due to avoiding the vrykul purge here, but apparently hiding out someplace much further away before the great breaking and then growing in this new land after that in safety before returning to their homeland at some point. That is my initial hypothesis at least.” Krivax finished with a hum.

There was silence all throughout the Chieftain’s house at those words as everyone spent several minutes processing what was just said.

A race of sleeping half-giants? There were only stories of true giants, and the legends of them giving birth to the infamous magnataur. These half-giants willingly slaying their own children just for being ‘weak’ in their eyes? Monstrous to the extreme and something no kalu’ak would do to their own children, even in the harshest of winters. Humans being small giants? Well… that one was less hard to believe since, despite on average being shorter than the average kalu’ak, Chieftain Ko’nani had personally seen a few examples of human strength and bravery in the face of what should be much deadlier beings.

“Returning to the main question, yes, the humans claim to come from the far east and kingdoms there,” Elder Si’uigo broke them all out of their musings. “We occasionally see traders from them during the warm seasons who wish to trade in furs, oils, whalebone, and other things with us when they travel here in their ‘sailing’ ships. They are our regular source of metal tools and weapons… before you of course.”

“Are they strong despite their size?” Masruk asked, seemingly intently curious.

“They are no slouches to combat, those who train for it at least,” Chieftain Ko’nani. “And if you live in the Dragonblight, then you need to know how to defend yourself.”

“They must have retained their parents’ martial prowess then, good to know,” Masruk nodded.

“Did they say what their land is called and what it is like?” Krivax asked.

“A land of warmth that they call the ‘Eastern Kingdoms’ apparently,” Elder To’a answered.

“Most interesting,” Krivax hummed further.

“Of course, we don’t see them as much as the little green devils,” Elder Si’uigo spoke up, causing most present to sigh and palm their faces, earning the attention of the nerubians.

“Green devils?” Krivax asked.

“Well, that is what we refer to them when they aren’t around at least,” Elder Duuqni admitted. “They call themselves goblins and also hail from across the sea. Short, green, pointed ears and noses, and more greed in their whole bodies than common sense. They aren’t the worst beings to talk to… but they can certainly grate on the nerves.”

“Indeed,” Chieftain Ko’nani agreed. “I’ve dealt with them each time they come to Moa'ki Harbor and even if their visits are infrequent, each time they arrive they can be very… ‘grating’. They are very fond of making trade deals and the like, but rather uncaring of anything beyond that. I hear the clans in the Tundra deal with it more often and worse too due to being a central gathering point for our people.”

“They all have a death wish,” Elder To’a grumbled. “On one of their expeditions, they ventured out into the Dragonblight and attempted to harvest the corpses of the great wyrms! In another, they tried to brutally harvest the natural resources of an area before they were driven away; and their creations are always blowing up more often than not!”

“They can use said ‘machines’ to break through the ice during the colder months… but they just as often break down and become trapped in it as well,” Elder Si’uigo explained.

“The goblins do not come here very often due to their difficulties adjusting to the climate, but when they do, I would say on average more die here than return home every time they arrive,” Chieftain Ko’nani said grimly. “Not that they seem to care much, with those few who manage to survive going home with smiles on their faces at the ‘great profit’ being made.”

“I would not recommend dealing with them if you don’t want to be driven to your wits’ end, but I’m sure they would pay much more than we ever could for your goods,” Elder Duuqni admitted reluctantly.

“We will keep that in mind…” Krivax muttered to themselves.

“Do they fight well at least?” Masruk asked hopefully.

“The few times I’ve seen it they mostly relied on their machines to fight for them. As prone to blow them up as their enemies,” Chieftain Ko’nani said. “That's why we don’t trade for any of their… complex creations.”

“Oh…” Masruk actually sounded disappointed.

“We do have a few toys and gadgets from the gnomes though,” Elder Si’uigo spoke up. “Their devices are more reliable and much less prone to explode randomly.”

“Gnomes?” Krivax perked up.

“Oh yes, they are much newer to our lands, having only started coming here occasionally in the last few decades. They were part of a group with another race known as the dwarfs. Gnomes look like child-sized humans while the dwarfs are a little taller but also more stout and hairy,” Elder Duuqni explained. “Unlike the human or goblin traders, they don’t come here to trade at all, but rather explore and research apparently. Said they are a part of a group known as the ‘Explorers' League’ and want to study ancient ruins. They are very interested in the great pillars and ancient road for example.”

“Are they still here?” Krivax asked in some excitement.

“No, they’ve only been coming by once a year, traveling on the same ships the traders do and doing short scouting trips into Dragonblight before leaving with them again. They say they are gathering information for a proper expedition later. They should arrive again when the ice is still at its thinnest and leave before the cold traps them,” Elder To’a explained.

“We can introduce you to them when they return if you like, if their regular schedule holds they should arrive with some human traders within a month or so, and they are much friendlier than the humans and goblins that come by. We even traded for small things like the mentioned toys and gadgets, along with a few other things like tools, food, and maps,” Chieftain Ko’nani stated.

“Do you still have them?! The maps?!” Krivax asked in a great deal of excitement, practically looking like he was about to jump up from his seat.

The kalu’ak were taken back by his energy, but Chieftain Ko’nani was quick to see another opportunity.

“Of course, and we’d be happy to trade them to you for a price. Maybe a few of the other items as well,” he said with a smirk as he got up to collect the items in question.

A few minutes later he had a large scroll in hand and unrolled it before the nerubians, showing the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Amazing…” Krivax whispered in awe as he took the map in hand while his companion was less impressed.

“We have better maps,” Masruk said simply.

“Do you know anything about these Eastern Kingdoms?” Krivax asked as he examined the map. “Their history? Their people?... Maybe any conflicts they are in the middle of? Don’t want to get mixed up in anything nasty after all.”

“Not much, but then again we didn’t pry and they didn’t share beyond what was needed to do business with each other,” the Chieftain admitted. “Though the gnomes and dwarfs are friendly if nothing else.”

“How do these ‘dwarves’ and ‘gnomes’ fight though?”

“Can’t say much on the gnomes, and while I’ve never seen them fight, the dwarfs at least were well armed and armored when I saw them,” Chieftain Ko’nani mused.

“Good to hear,” was Masruk’s response.

“The gnomes do make this wonderful device though that the calves love and I admit is very distracting too,” the Chieftain admitted as he handed over an item from a small pile of various doodads traded with the gnomes.

“I fail to see how this would be entertaining at—” Masruk started to say, but quickly quieted as he held the device and it started to spin at his touch, causing his multiple eyes to widen and watch it closely as he turned it this way and that. “Oh… this is quite nice.”

“Glad you think so… and we’d be willing to part with them for the right amount of trade,” the Chieftain said, noticing how he now had them both hooked.

Oh yes, as those little green devils would fondly say, this was going to be a very profitable day.

Chapter Text

Krivax glanced worriedly at the Lothalor Woodlands treant that was currently staring at him silently.

The creature was not completely permeated with arcane magic—if it were then it would likely be growing crystals from its bark—but Krivax could still sense the arcane emanating from it constantly. He did not know very much about treants and where they came from, but he doubted that every woodland on Azeroth would be able to produce them. The large amounts of treants were likely a result of the dense magic that permeated the area.

While there were few things in the Lothalor Woodlands that visually marked it as influenced by the ley line beneath it—aside from the faint violet tint of its leaves—the entire area was like a beacon in the night to Krivax’s magical senses. He could only begin to imagine how overwhelmed he would be if he ever found himself in the Crystalsong Forest.

Fortunately, there was little reason for him to go to such a place, given that Azjol-Nerub had already tried and failed to harvest anything worthwhile from there. The Crystalsong Forest was just too well guarded by mad spirits and treants, and the Viziers already possessed more easily acquired alternatives to what they could gain from the forest.

The lightly infused bark of the Lothalor Woodlands was much more useful than the crystals that composed the Crystalsong trees. Not only that, but Vizier Hadix had also expressed an interest in the various flowers, fruits, and wildlife that could be found in the Woodlands. While neither Krivax nor Hadix knew for certain exactly how these arcane-inclined flora and fauna could be used, they both knew that the Viziers of the Arcane Research Division would do everything in their power to find out.

It was very rare for a society as insular and stagnant as Azjol-Nerub to be exposed to anything it had not already seen before, so this was a rare opportunity for them.

Krivax forcibly pulled his thoughts back to the present as he bent down to gather a fallen branch while watching for any sign of aggression from the treant as he did so. It was difficult to predict what he could harvest from the Lothalor Woodlands without being attacked by its guardians, but they usually gave some sign of warning before becoming aggressive, thankfully.

Krivax picked up the branch without issue and carefully stored it inside his spatial bag. Once that was done, he decided to begin heading back to Indu’le Village before his good luck ran out.

Krivax directed his flyers to follow him and watch for any hostile creatures as he began making his way back to the village.

After they had come to an agreement with the village’s leadership, Krivax and Masruk spent most of their time in Indu’le while they waited for the merchant ship from the Eastern Kingdoms to arrive.

According to Chieftain Ko’nani and his Elders, the ship should be arriving soon if they kept to their regular schedule. The tuskarr of Dragonblight had seemingly encountered both goblins and merchant ships from the Eastern Kingdoms that occasionally traveled to Northrend for the purpose of trading and transporting members of the Explorer’s League.

The tuskarr had also been willing to trade away a map of the Eastern Kingdoms and a gnomish toy, both of which Krivax had given to Hadix as quickly as possible, much to Masruk’s disappointment in the latter case until he was given a spare. After being given further proof of the existence of the lands across the ocean, the Vizier had given him orders to contact him when the foreigners arrived and began to contact him less frequently. Krivax was curious about what Hadix was doing with the evidence, but there was no real way for him to know.

However, he understood that the imminent discovery of the Eastern Kingdoms would have an immense impact on Azjol-Nerub’s leadership, and the politics that the Vizier was involved in must be… complicated.

In comparison, when the arcane regents that Indu’le Village had harvested from the Lothalor Woodlands were finally delivered to Kilah’kuk, he expected it to be lost in the noise.

Krivax’s thoughts were interrupted when he stepped out of the treeline and caught sight of Indu’le Village and approached the gate that separated the Woodlands from the village.

Built around the same lake from which it derived its name, Indu’le Village was the largest settlement of tuskarr that Krivax had seen so far. If not in population, then mostly in size, as the local tuskarr took full advantage of the lake’s nature as a font of magic and life to put up fish farms and buildings nearly all along its edges.

“Good evening, Utoq!” said Krivax, cheerfully greeting the tuskarr responsible for guarding the gate. “The treants were starting to look at me funny, so I figured I’d finish early for the day.”

"Welcome back, Krivax," said Utoq. The tuskarr quickly moved to open the gate. "I still don't understand why you're the one that's going out into the Woodlands instead of our people. We have a longer and more understanding relationship with the local tree spirits, after all."

It was an unfortunate reality that the tuskarr of Indu'le Village did not have as much experience sensing arcane magic as Krivax did. Although living on a ley line likely did give them an increased aptitude for the arcane and a minor ability to sense the magic, Krivax was still far more proficient in detecting arcane magic than they were.

When he had finished negotiating with their Chieftain, it was decided that Krivax would be the one to go out into the Woodlands and collect samples of items that the Arcane Research Division might want. Once those samples reached Kilah'kuk and were analyzed, only then would the tuskarr venture out into the forest and harvest it themselves.

The Lothalor Woodlands were not without danger, after all, even beyond potentially angering its nature spirits, and all the tuskarr who were capable of defending themselves were busy fighting off wolvar. The village could not afford to send these warriors to collect goods that might not even have any value.

It made sense from a logistical point of view, but it was still a bit troublesome for Krivax. His life would be much easier if Hadix would simply take a day to fill up a bag full of samples and then teleport it to Kilah'kuk, but there was little hope of that happening any time soon. Not only was he incredibly busy, but the Vizier also did not believe in doing ‘Initiate’s work’ as he called it.

Krivax tried to explain this to Utoq.

“I understand that,” said Utoq. “It just does not feel right for us to send guests to do such dangerous work, but I guess that’s none of my business. You should go see your friend. I heard that he went out with the warriors to kill wolvar today. They should be back by now.”

Krivax thanked the guard for the information and quickly started making his way toward Masruk. While he didn’t approve of his friend constantly leaving to fight the wolvar in search of battle, he knew that doing so was Masruk’s choice. Still, that didn’t stop Krivax from worrying about him.

Moving through the village as quickly as he could without being impolite, he soon reached the northeast gateway, where Masruk could be seen speaking with one of the tuskarr warriors.

“Hey, Masruk,” said Krivax, greeting his friend as he approached. “I heard from Utoq that you just came back. How did everything go? Were the wolvar a good challenge?”

Krivax did not enjoy violence or combat like his friend did—even if he understood the necessity of it—but he would still make the effort to show an interest in his friend’s passions. After all, Masruk had been the only one to show an interest in his passion for the surface world, so it was only fair for him to return the favor, right?

“They did,” said Masruk with genuine joy in his voice. “The wolvar are ferocious warriors and despite their lack of intelligence, they possess a cunning that makes them a formidable enemy. I look forward to fighting them again tomorrow.”

“Ha! I’ve never met someone with as much bloodlust as this one,” said the large tuskarr warrior that Masruk had been speaking to. “Hold on to that passion, and you’ll grow into a truly formidable warrior one day!”

“Thank you, Edwek,” said Masruk. “I have learned much from you and your fellow warriors.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Edwek. “You’ve done a lot to help us fight off the wolvar.”

At the mention of his people’s enemy, Edwek lost his jovial smile and his expression twisted into something fearsome.

“The damned beasts have been attacking us constantly lately. They always become more aggressive during this time of the year, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I wish there was more we could do to help,” Krivax said sympathetically.

He had gone out with Masruk once to fight the wolvar, and he understood why the tuskarr hated them so much. The primitive wolverine people were extremely aggressive and difficult to handle. They frequently attacked the path between Mao’ki Harbor and Indu’le Village and often killed any tuskarr unlucky enough to be caught out alone.

“You’ve already done more than most,” said Edwek. “I’ve heard that Chieftain Anogut managed to reach a deal with Chieftain Ko’nani for metal weapons made from the ore that was brought on Green Island. Once our warriors are better equipped, we’ll make the wolvar regret every last tuskarr that they’ve killed.”

The warrior's last words were said with a tone of grim promise that made it obvious he meant every word.

After a few more moments of making small talk with the warrior, Edwek said his farewells and went about his business.

“You should have joined us, Krivax,” said Masruk once they were alone. “If we are going to continue exploring the surface, then you will need to continue honing your skills in combat.”

“I know,” said Krivax. “I just prefer to avoid violence when I can. But that doesn’t mean I’m not continuing to grow stronger.”

Intent on proving his point to his friend, Krivax began casting a spell that he had only practiced in private until now.

In an instant, Krivax disappeared from his location and reappeared a few feet from his previous location.

“Look! I finally learned how to cast Blink!” Krivax said proudly. Learning spatial magic had not been nearly as intuitive an experience as learning frost magic, but Krivax eventually had gotten the hang of it.

Masruk stared at him blankly for several moments before throwing a rock at Krivax’s chest.

“Ouch,” said Krivax, more in surprise than anything else. The rock had not actually been thrown hard enough to damage his carapace. “What was that for?”

“You need to train your reflexes,” Masruk said smugly. “Being able to teleport won’t help if you get hit before you can finish casting your spell or after you finish it.”

“That’s not fair. You just caught me by surprise. I’ve gotten pretty good at casting that spell.”

“Oh?”

This time Krivax was ready for Masruk to throw the rock at him, and he Blinked out of the way.

“Ha! See?”

Krivax hurried to dodge the next rock that Masruk threw; while he had learned how to Blink, casting the spell several times in quick succession was beyond his current abilities.

The next several minutes were spent with Krivax doing his best to dodge and Blink away from the random items that Masruk threw at him in the name of ‘training.’

“Excuse me.”

Krivax and Masruk’s impromptu game was interrupted as a young tuskarr approached the two nerubians and called for their attention.

“Chieftain Anogut has called for the two of you.”

Krivax had not spoken to the Chieftain very often since they concluded their negotiations, so he was surprised that the man was calling for the two of them. Chieftain Anogut was an extremely busy man, after all.

After signaling their understanding to the messenger, Krivax and Masruk began making their way to the Chieftain’s home.

Once they arrived, Krivax was surprised to see the Chieftain speaking to Orfus, given that the Kamaguan warrior usually spent most of his time in Mao’ki Harbor.

“Good evening, Chieftain Anogutt,” Krivax said respectfully. “I was told that you called for us?”

“Ah, you’re here! Good!” said the boisterous Chieftain. “I called because Orfus here has some news I thought you would like to hear as quickly as possible.”

“I do,” said Orfus as he turned his attention to the two nerubians. “The shamans in Moa’ki Harbor told me that the foreigners from across the sea have nearly arrived. I came to tell you as soon as I heard.”

Once Krivax finished processing what Orfus had just said, he froze in shock and was only brought back to reality by the worried prodding of Masruk.

.

He glanced at his friend in thanks before addressing Orfus. “Let’s get going. It would be best if we arrived in Moa’ki Harbor as quickly as possible so that we might have some time to prepare.”

After offering Chieftain Anogut a short but respectful farewell, their group of three exited Indu’le Village from its southeastern gate and started heading back towards Moa’ki Harbor.

The three of them were interrupted by a small group of wolvar, but fortunately, Krivax’s flyers spotted them coming and the resulting fight was short and barely affected their journey.

It took them some time to make the trip, but when they reached there, Krivax could see that the merchant ship had still not arrived yet. As soon as they walked into Moa’ki Harbor, one of the Elders immediately approached their group.

“You arrived quicker than I expected,” said Elder Si’uigo. “Come with me to the Chieftain’s home. We have made preparations for your introduction to the foreigners.”

“Why do we need to go to the Chieftain’s home?” asked Krivax, confused.

“Well… it would be best if the foreigners were warned about your appearance before they met you,” said Elder Si’uigo after only a moment of hesitation. “Much like our warriors were warned by Orfus when you first arrived on Green Island. I’m sure you have learned by now that your people’s form can be unsettling to our people without warning. I do not know for certain how the foreigners will view your appearance, but I suspect their reactions will be similar to our own.”

Krivax winced in embarrassment. That was not something that he should have forgotten. The tuskarr had all reacted in shock once seeing them, but Krivax had gotten used to it and the tuskarr adjusted very quickly once they realized that the two nerubians were not hostile.

Still, there was something he wanted to see before Elder Si’uigo escorted them to the Chieftain’s home.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to take a look at their ship before I go with you.”

Elder Si’uigo looked at him strangely for a moment before shrugging.

“Very well. I suppose if you have never seen one of their wooden ships before then it could be an interesting sight. I’m not much of a fan of their ships myself. Rowboats and kayaks are easier to control and turtles are much more convenient.”

Soon enough, their group had made their way to the docks and Krivax was staring at the incoming ship through a borrowed spyglass. Spotting the three-masted sailing ship in great detail, he was suddenly filled with conflicted emotions.

He had already been aware that the merchant ship was scheduled to arrive at any moment, but it felt strange to be confronted with a moment that he had been working for his entire second life.

Today would go down in history as the day that a citizen of Azjol-Nerub contacted a citizen of the Eastern Kingdoms for the first time, and Krivax could not help but feel the weight of that knowledge settle on his shoulders.

After a few moments, Krivax pushed down his tumultuous emotions and nodded to Elder Si’uigo.

As he followed the elderly tuskarr to the Chieftain’s home, he couldn’t help but look back at the incoming ship and wonder about the people who were onboard.

Chapter Text

Trixie Tinkwrench huffed in annoyance as she checked the battery on her Poultryizer. It was unfortunate that the battery required sensitive internal components that were highly sensitive to temperature. Already the cold of Northrend had rendered one of her favorite gadgets useless.

There was nothing Trixie loved more than turning her enemies into chickens and watching them run around in panic, but it seemed that she would have to rely on her trusty Shrink Ray until she returned to the Eastern Kingdoms. She had hoped that the new components would stand up to the cold better than they did, but unfortunately, they did not.

With a sigh, Trixie put away the useless gadget and began preparing herself to disembark from the ship. They had almost reached Moa’ki Harbor, and she was one of the few people who spoke the tuskarr language, so she would need to be ready to greet the natives as soon as they arrived.

Trixie moved over to the mirror and quickly tied her pink hair into two pigtails; pink was not her natural hair color, but one of her little brother’s gadgets had malfunctioned and changed her hair to the color it was now. She didn’t mind the color and reversing it would be too much trouble, so she had just left it the way it was.

Once that was done, Trixie put on her tinker goggles and quickly tested their functions so that she could be sure they wouldn’t fail her when she needed them most.

Taking a look in the mirror and deciding that she was ready, Trixie exited her cabin and made her way out onto the deck.

The first thing she saw was Malzie Stonehallow standing at the bow of the ship and looking through a spyglass toward Moa’ki Harbor.

Trixie weaved her way through the Lordaeronian sailors who were rapidly preparing the ship to dock and made her way to the only other member of the Explorer’s League on the ship.

“How’s everything looking, big man?” Trixie asked the middle-aged dwarf man. “Does it look safe to continue approaching the village?”

“Aye, lass. Everything looks fine,” said Malzie as he put away the spyglass. “The tuskarr have a few of their warriors waiting to welcome us at their port, but that’s nothing special. Chieftain Ko’nani’s there waiting for us as well.”

Trixie hummed before flicking a switch on her goggles and turning her gaze to the tuskarr village. Her vision instantly zoomed in on the port as if she were looking through a spyglass.

As Malzie said, there were several tuskarr warriors patiently waiting by the port alongside their massive Chieftain. One of the tuskarr was waving a large green flag signaling that the ship had their permission to dock.

Trixie didn’t notice anything different about this from the previous times she had sailed to Moa’ki Harbor, so she switched her goggles back to their normal setting and turned her attention back to Malzie.

“So have you had any luck in convincing the merchants to stick around any longer? The more time I have to scout, the better.”

Trixie’s role was to survey as much of Northrend’s land as possible in preparation for a larger expedition that would take place sometime in the future.

The Bronzebeards were keen to explore the continent for lore about dwarven history and had instructed the Explorer’s League to plan an expedition, but such things took time. Logistics and funding for the expedition were currently being planned and argued over in Ironforge’s Senate, but the Explorer’s League thought it prudent to gather as much information about the continent as possible beforehand to make things easier.

Given how quickly they managed to find evidence of ancient structures, it seemed that there was something worth studying in this frozen hellhole at least.

Unfortunately, without that funding, she and Malzie were forced to travel with merchants who did not share her goals. The Lordaeronian merchants occasionally sailed to Northrend in order to trade relatively cheap metal ores for exotic furs, whale oil, waterproof hides, ivory, and alchemical herbs with the tuskarr and the native humans.

It would likely be a very profitable venture if not for Northrend’s extremely hostile environment.

“Nay, not much luck there,” said Malzie with a wince. “The humans just want to trade and leave as quickly as possible. Not much appetite for adventure amongst them.”

“I guess that’s to be expected,” said Trixie. “Maybe if we’re lucky, you’ll find a gold vein. That’ll have the continent completely covered in humans and we’d be able to come here whenever we want.”

“Ha! You’re not wrong, lass, but I doubt we’ll get so lucky.”

Trixie and Malzie spent the next few minutes making plans so that they could scout as much as possible within the limited amount of time that they had.

Their discussion was interrupted by the loud bellow of the ship’s captain.

“Prepare to dock!”

Experienced human sailors got to work as they prepared to tie down the ship as they approached Moa’ki Harbor’s port. Trixie did her best to keep out of the way of the Big Folk as they went about their business. She had learned the hard way soon after leaving Gnomeregan that humans did not often look down, especially while they were distracted.

Soon enough, the ship was pulling into a dock and the human sailors were throwing ropes to the tuskarr so that they could tie them around the dock cleats.

The whole process took quite a while to complete, but the ship was eventually docked and the captain was approaching Trixie after leaving the ship’s helm.

“Good evening, Explorer Tinkwrench,” said Captain Stanton Prescott. “Will you be handling the translation for the negotiations between the walrusmen and the merchants?”

The man was hired by a noble family to captain their trade ship and was competent enough to learn the language of the natives, but Trixie could tell that the man preferred to interact with ‘primitives’ as little as possible.

Prescott was supposed to be the one responsible for handling the translation, but once he found out that Trixie and Malzie could speak tuskarr, he was more than happy to pass on the duty to them. Trixie was the more diplomatic of the two, so the responsibility was effectively all hers.

“Yes, Captain Prescott,” said Trixie, hiding her annoyance with the human. “I will handle the translations.”

“Very good,” said Prescott, turning away and leaving without another word.

Once the human was gone Malzie muttered a dwarven insult under his breath that had Trixie struggling to hold back laughter.

Once the gangway was lowered, Trixie did not hesitate to leave the ship alongside Malzie and the human merchant who was a young man named Oscar Smythe. The rest of the ship's crew would need to wait for them to finish greeting the tuskarr Chieftain before they could be given shore leave.

“Greetings, Chieftain Ko’nani,” Trixie said politely in the tuskarr language as their group approached the Chieftain and his warriors. “I am happy to see you again. Thank you for allowing our ship to dock in your village’s port.”

“Greetings, Explorer Tinkwrench,” said Chieftain Ko’nani, struggling to pronounce her name. “Much has happened since the last time you visited our shores, but I am glad to see you as well.”

Much has happened?

Trixie was just about to ask the Chieftain what he meant by that when she was interrupted by the human.

“Ask the walrusman if he has prepared the trading goods for the ores.”

Trixie huffed in annoyance but translated the merchant’s words, although a tad more diplomatically.

Her curiosity only grew when Chieftain Ko’nani hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’m afraid we will need to renegotiate our current trade agreement in regards to your ores.”

Trixie couldn’t help but widen her eyes in surprise. She knew that the tuskarr dearly needed metal ores in order to make weapons that they could use to fight off tribes of wolverine people and those giant four-legged marauders who regularly attacked their villages.

What had changed since the last time that they were here?

Predictably, the merchant puffed up in outrage the moment Trixie finished translating the Chieftain’s response.

“Renegotiate?! Why should we have to renegotiate after traveling so far? Ridiculous!”

Trixie barely held back an exasperated sigh. Even if the Chieftain did not speak much Common, he would still be able to understand the human’s body language and tone of voice. Nonetheless, she did her best to relay the human’s question as diplomatically as possible.

“Our village has made a trade agreement that has opened up another source of metal ore for our people,” Chieftain Ko’nani said evenly. Trixie was impressed that she could only see a small amount of smugness in the Chieftain’s expression. “Our new trading partners are able to offer us sufficient amounts of ore for our village more cheaply and regularly, so if you like to continue trading with our village, then we will need to renegotiate.”

Trixie and Malzie looked at each other with wide eyes.

Who else could possibly supply the tuskarr with large amounts of ore? Goblins?

“Chieftain Ko’nani, if I may ask, who has your village started trading with?” Trixie asked without translating for the human. She wanted to figure out what was going on before the merchant had the chance to say something stupid. “As far as we are aware, there are no other merchants traveling to Northrend from the Eastern Kingdoms.”

“That’s because they are from Northrend,” said the Chieftain. “Our new trading partner is a large kingdom by the name of Azjol-Nerub.”

Once Trixie finished processing the Chieftain’s words, she could barely hold back a gasp and had to resist the urge to jump up and down in excitement. She could tell that Malzie was similarly enthusiastic.

As far as the Explorer’s League knew, the only intelligent life that inhabited Northrend were the tuskarr, a few scattered villages of humans, some kind of bison people who the tuskarr referred to as taunka, and the ice trolls.

There were also the wolverine people, the giant marauders, and villages of murlocs, but those could hardly be considered as ‘intelligent life.’ There were also the occasional sightings of Naga, but that had yet to be proven.

But if this ‘Azjol-Nerub’ was a large kingdom, then where did they come from and why had Trixie never heard of them before?

“Just to be clear, Chieftain, are the people of Azjol-Nerub of a race that you had never met before?” asked Trixie, giving voice to the biggest question on both her and Malzie’s minds.

“Yes, they are.” Chieftain Ko’nani confirmed with a calm that Trixie currently envied. “Their people are called nerubians, and according to them, they live in an underground kingdom that spans most of the continent.”

This time Trixie was unable to control herself as she let out an involuntary gasp and her eyes grew wider than they had ever been. She turned to Malzie and sure enough, he was in a similar state to her own.

If what the Chieftain said was true, and there truly was such a large underground kingdom on Northrend that was civilized enough to trade with outsiders, then the implications would be… massive.

Trixie was quiet for long enough that the human’s patience wore out and he started making a fuss about being ignored. Once she finished explaining the situation to him, however, he quickly quieted down as he understood the significance of the situation. Trixie could practically see little gold coins dancing in the merchant's eyes as the human thought about the possible trading opportunities this previously unknown kingdom could offer.

For Trixie and Malzie… this was the kind of thing that would get their names written down in the history books.

“Quick! Ask him to tell us what we need to do in order to speak with these ‘nerubians.’”

Trixie eagerly relayed the human’s question.

“As it happens, the nerubians wish to speak with you as well,” said the Chieftain. “Once they learned that our village traded with people from lands across the ocean, they became quite interested in meeting you.”

No sequence of words could have made Trixie more nervous than the ones that just came out of the Chieftain’s mouth. She had come to Northrend to scout out the lands for a future expedition, not to lead a diplomatic meeting with a powerful kingdom that she had never heard of before!

She wanted to turn the responsibility over to Captain Prescott, but it only took a moment of thought to realize that would be a terrible idea. Not only was the man undiplomatic in the extreme, but it was unlikely that the man would agree anyways. If Prescott were some kind of ambitious noble, then he might take over the meeting so that he might gain as many benefits as possible, but the captain was a retired antisocial navy sailor that barely cared about anything aside from his ship.

She didn’t even consider leaving the matter to Oscar. The only thing that the merchant cared about was money.

I’m not trained for this! I never took any diplomacy courses at Gearshaft University! I only took engineering and combat classes! What if I do something wrong and I make them hate us? What if I get us all killed or imprisoned?!

Trixie turned a panicked expression to Malzie

“It’ll be alright, lass,” Malzie said reassuringly. “I ain’t going to lie to you and say that this ain’t a big deal, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You’re a clever one and you’ve got a natural talent for talking to people. I’m sure everything will be alright.”

Hearing the older dwarf’s words reassured Trixie enough for her to take a deep breath and begin calming herself down.

He’s right. I’m Trixie Tinkwrench! I’m a badass who graduated top of my class in combat and I’ve been an Explorer for nearly a decade! I can handle talking to people.

After giving herself a little pep talk, Trixie turned her attention back to the Chieftain.

I can do this. I can do this.

“If the nerubians would like to meet with us, then we are more than willing, Chieftain,” Trixie said with a tone of confidence she didn’t truly feel.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Chieftain Ko’nani. Trixie didn’t like the sudden glimmer of amusement that she could see in the large tuskarr’s eyes. “There is just one thing that you should know before I take you to meet with them. The nerubians have an appearance that I suspect you will find to be… greatly unsettling.”

Trixie could feel her growing resolve stutter at the Chieftain’s words.

“Oh? How so?” Trixie asked hesitantly.

“The nerubians are a race of giant spiderlike people.”

I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

“I see,” said Trixie, mustering all of her courage for her impending meeting with a race of giant spider people who belonged to a kingdom that allegedly spanned more land than any civilization in the Eastern Kingdoms. “Are they… friendly?”

Chieftain Ko’nani hummed in consideration as Malzie translated for the human. In any other situation, she would have been amused by how quickly his face paled.

“They are more friendly and diplomatic than some outsiders I’ve met,” said the Chieftain, glancing unsubtly at Oscar. The human had remained quiet once Trixie started to ask about the nerubians, but it was obvious that the Chieftain had not forgotten his previous outburst.

“I understand, Chieftain,” said Trixie. “I would like to meet with these nerubians.”

Chieftain Ko’nani simply nodded and started leading them into the village. One of the tuskarr Elders went to tell the sailors that they could leave the ship and then followed after them a moment later.

The walk to the Chieftain’s home, where the nerubians were presumably waiting for them, was not long enough. As the Chieftain ushered the three of them inside, Trixie did her best to suppress her fight or flight instinct as she prepared to meet the giant spider people.

It turns out that was probably for the best since she simply froze in terror when she laid eyes on the nerubians. If she hadn’t prepared herself, Trixie was certain she would have already fired her Shrink Ray and tried her best to smash them with her wrench.

The two nerubians were nightmarishly large creatures with the lower body of a spider and an upper body that was shaped similarly to a gnome’s, if one ignored their terrifying faces. One of the nerubians was wearing a full set of armor that was well designed for their body and the other was wearing a set of robes that would not seem out of place in Dalaran.

Trixie was used to living in a world where most things were bigger than her, but she couldn’t help but feel like spiderlike creatures should not be allowed to grow so large… and she had seen actual giant spiders!

Trixie was suddenly the focus of sixteen eyes as the creatures that she wished did not exist turned their attention to her.

“It’s so small,” said the large armored spider thing. The armored spider held up one of the toys that she had left for the tuskarr children during her last visit. “Greetings tiny creature. Do you have any more of these amusing devices?”

Before she could even hope to formulate an answer, the robed one started speaking with an overenthusiastic voice.

“Hello!” said the robed nightmare in the tuskarr language, opening and closing their giant terrifying mandibles as they spoke. Their accent was strange and their voice was too cheerful in Trixie’s opinion. “My name is Krivax, and I’m happy to meet you. What’s your name?”

Trixie tried her best to muster a response, but all that left her mouth was a terrified whine.

Chapter Text

The first thing Krivax did once Elder Si’uigo escorted him and Masruk to the Chieftain’s home was to ask the Elders for a private room he could use to contact Vizier Hadix. The shamans were all perplexed by his ability to communicate over such large distances, but he had a feeling that the Elders were growing accustomed to being surprised since they pointed him to a room without much fuss.

The Vizier had ordered him to inform him once the foreigners arrived, so he would do so. Krivax recognized that Hadix was taking this very seriously and was placing a great deal of importance on this matter. The Vizier would not appreciate it if Krivax had the chance to contact him and failed to do so. He asked Masruk if he would like to join him, but his friend was not particularly interested in speaking to the Vizier if he did not have to.

Once he was safely in one of the nearby rooms Krivax reached into his spatial pouch, pulled out the scrying crystal, and set it up in the center of the room. After Krivax cast the appropriate spells, Hadix responded almost immediately.

“Initiate,” said Vizier Hadix as his visage appeared in the scrying crystal. “I assume you are contacting me about the wooden ship currently approaching the tuskarr village?”

How does he know that? Krivax wondered dumbfoundedly.

“Yes, Vizier,” said Krivax. “The ship has nearly arrived and the tuskarr will bring the people from the Eastern Kingdoms to meet with me. If I may ask, how did you know they were here?”

“I asked an acquaintance to send a flyer to surveil the tuskarr village,” Hadix said dryly. “Obviously, I could not leave such an important matter to chance. Just as I will not leave your upcoming meeting to chance, Initiate.”

Krivax did not like the sound of that. He also wondered how the Vizier was able to find out what the flyer saw so quickly, but now was not the time to ask such questions.

“Do you intend to meet with the foreigners yourself, Vizier Hadix?” asked Krivax, hoping that wasn’t the case. The Vizier was many things, but diplomatic was not one of them.

“No, Initiate, I do not,” Hadix said evenly. “I recognize that you have a… talent for communicating with the surface races. It would be foolish of me not to utilize that. Instead, I have something else in mind.”

Before Krivax could formulate a response, a bright violet light began to shine next to the scrying crystal. For a moment, he was worried that the Vizier had once again decided to teleport into a tuskarr village without permission, but when the light dissipated, he saw something unexpected.

A violet, see-through figure of the Vizier was standing in the center of the room looking like a ghost or a hologram.

“Only you will be able to see and hear this projection, Initiate,” said the illusionary figure of the Vizier. “As long as the projection does not travel too far from the scrying crystal, I will be able to observe and oversee your meeting with the foreigners.”

Krivax had no idea that the Vizier was capable of doing something like this, nor was he truly expecting the Vizier to participate in the meeting. The look on his face must have been one of extreme surprise because once the Vizier looked at him, he huffed in amusement.

“I fail to see why you are so astonished, Initiate Krivax,” Hadix said sardonically. “Did you really believe I would allow an Initiate who has not lived for even half a decade to be in charge of a meeting that could potentially impact our entire kingdom without even the slightest supervision?”

Well when you say it like that, you make me feel like an idiot.

“Of course not, Vizier,” Krivax said unconvincingly. “If I may ask, are you certain that the tuskarr Elders will be unable to sense your presence?”

“Remind me to teach you how to lie properly once you return to the city, Initiate,” Hadix said derisively. “As for the shamans, don’t insult me. Those ‘Elders’ would need to study magic for another century before they could even hope to sense me if I did not want them to.”

Please stop speaking like a villain, Vizier Hadix. You’re making me feel nervous about my future.

“As you say, Vizier,” Krivax said readily. “Do you have any instructions or guidelines for this meeting that you would like to share with me?”

“Yes, I do,” said Hadix, his tone growing more solemn. “After you first approached me with what you discovered, I decided to share the information with only a few select individuals while further evidence was gathered. It was only after you brought me the map of the Eastern Kingdoms and the toy made by the gnome that I approached Underking Kuk’arak, Queen Mel’ras, and Vizier Silvos. I’m told that a few of my associates in the capital approached High King Anub'arak and his council as well.”

“Really?” asked Krivax excitedly. Queen Mel’ras was the highest-ranking Queen in Kilah’kuk and Vizier Silvos was the Underking’s most trusted advisor and the city’s most influential administrator. “How did they react?”

“They didn’t believe any of it,” Hadix said bluntly. “Both Underking Kuk’arak and Queen Mel’ras cared little for the claims of a tuskarr shaman, although Vizier Silvos seemed to keep a more open mind. It was only after I presented them with the physical items that you acquired from the tuskarr that they began to consider the possibility.”

Krivax hummed in consideration as he processed the information. It was not particularly surprising to him that the nerubian leadership needed a lot of evidence for them to begin changing their worldview. Krivax was about to ask the Vizier how any of this related to his impending meeting with the people from the Eastern Kingdoms when a scary thought suddenly caught his mind.

“Vizier Hadix, you said that your acquaintance was surveilling Moa’ki Harbor with a flyer and informed you when the ship arrived,” Krivax said nervously. “Did your acquaintance inform anybody else?”

“I’m surprised that you caught that, Initiate,” said Hadix, faintly amused. “He did. I expect that by now the information is slowly spreading throughout Azjol-Nerub’s leadership. The wooden ship is unlike anything that the civilizations we know about are capable of. Soon enough, that ship will be the foremost topic of discussion for all of the kingdom’s leadership. Once they move to gather information on the matter, I suspect you will become very famous.”

Krivax suddenly felt as if his legs had turned to jelly.

He had known that this was a possibility from the day that he had decided that establishing contact between Azjol-Nerub and the Eastern Kingdoms was one of the best ways that he had available to protect himself and his new people against the threat the Lich King, However, when confronted with the fact that he had attracted the attention of large portions of Azjol-Nerub’s leadership and that he was likely about to be pulled into a maelstrom of politics, Krivax couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“I see,” said Krivax after he composed himself. There was no point lamenting his circumstances when he had willingly and knowingly set himself on this path. “In that case, what goals should I have for this meeting, Vizier Hadix?”

Something like approval flashed through the Vizier’s eyes before quickly fading away.

“That is a good question,” said Hadix consideringly. “It depends greatly on how the discussion amongst the kingdom’s leadership progresses. The leadership will understand that this is significant, but they will be greatly divided in how they wish to respond. If we wish to further our goal of initiating diplomatic contact with the Eastern Kingdoms and establishing a presence on their continent, then we will need to present our ideas to the leadership and shape the narrative to our favor.”

…Our?

“Vizier Hadix, I did not know that you had such goals as well,” said Krivax, confused.

Vizier Hadix looked down at Krivax assessingly for several moments before speaking.

“I do have such goals,” said Hadix. “One day I will explain to you why, but that day is not today. Although, if things progress as I expect them to, then that day might be sooner rather than later.”

Krivax had no idea how to respond to such an ominous statement.

“As you say, Vizier,” Krivax said hesitantly.

“For now, put such things out of your mind,” said Hadix. “If our objective is to convince the kingdom to send a diplomatic envoy to the Eastern Kingdoms, then your goal should be to secure the assistance of these foreigners. Not only are they the only ones who know how to operate their wooden ship and navigate to their lands, but their testimony on the potential benefits of diplomacy would be invaluable. Greed will be our greatest ally in combating the isolationist tendencies inherent to the kingdom’s various political factions.”

Krivax felt like that was a good point, and he believed the same. The foreigners would know best what resources the Eastern Kingdoms would be willing to trade, and if the leadership saw that they were reasonable, then diplomacy would seem like a much more attractive idea.

Privately, he thought that as long as the leadership fully understood the benefits of diplomacy, they would make the right decision. Krivax trusted in the power of sapient greed.

“I understand, Vizier,” said Krivax. “I will do my best to secure the assistance of these foreigners.”

“Good,” said Hadix, pleased. “Our time for conversation is over, I can sense that the foreigners are approaching and that none of them are skilled with magic. I will watch over the meeting and direct you as necessary. Nobody aside from you will know that I am there.”

After nodding his understanding, Krivax left behind the scrying crystal and made his way to the building’s center room.

“I’m back,” Krivax announced as he entered the room. He could see Elder Si’uigo and Elder To’a quietly talking to each other while Orfus laid back on a pile of pillows in a corner. “Are the foreigners on their way yet?”

“They are,” said Elder Si’uigo. “The spirits have informed me that their group consists of a gnome, a dwarf, and a human. The gnome will probably be the one to speak for them and assist with translating for the human if things are the same as they were last time.”

Krivax was just about to respond when he was interrupted by Vizier Hadix.

“Instruct the shaman to translate the conversation with magic,” Vizier Hadix said imperiously. “This meeting is too important to risk potential misunderstandings caused by a lack of proficiency in a common language.”

He had already asked the Chieftain once why they did not use magic to translate between them and the merchants from the Eastern Kingdoms. According to him, the tuskarr considered it a matter of respect for outsiders to learn and use their language while in their lands. Not only that, but the ability to create an area of translation like Wumni did during their first meeting was not as simple as Wumni made it look. If the Elders of Moa’ki Harbor wanted to accomplish the same thing, they would need to work together to do so.

It was for this reason that negotiations with the merchants from the Eastern Kingdom were generally done in a combination of the tuskarr language and Common, which Elder Duuqni had a passable proficiency in.

Still, it wasn’t as if he could say no to the Vizier’s orders.

“Elders, I understand that your people usually prefer not to use translation magic during your negotiations with the merchants from the Eastern Kingdoms, but could I ask you to make an exception this time?” Krivax asked respectfully. “This is our first meeting with these people, and I would like to avoid as many potential misunderstandings as possible.”

The tuskarr Elders discussed quietly for a moment amongst themselves before answering.

“We will grant your request as this is primarily a meeting between you and them,” said Elder To’a. “However, you will need to wait for Elder Duuqni to return before we are able to cast the magic.”

“Thank you, Elders. I am grateful.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated, but unnecessary,” said Elder Si’uigo. “In comparison to what trading with your people has done for this village, this is a small matter. I recommend that you prepare yourself. They are about to arrive.”

Hearing the Elder’s warning, Krivax moved to stand next to Masruk and turned his attention to the building’s entrance.

He didn’t have to wait long, because the group of people from the Eastern Kingdoms walked into the building.

The person at their front was a pink-haired female gnome with pigtails and engineering goggles strapped to her face. She wore a warm-looking coat over a practical set of leather armor that seemed like it had seen some use. Krivax could also see what seemed to be a wrench strapped to her side along with some kind of strange device that was vaguely shaped like a gun.

Behind her followed a middle-aged male dwarf who was also dressed in a practical manner and a young human man in heavy furs that could only be the merchant. Krivax had long since grown used to being a nerubian, but seeing a member of his former species after so long was an extremely strange experience.

Following right behind them were Chieftain Ko’nani and Elder Duunqi.

“It’s so small,” muttered Vizier Hadix incredulously.

“It’s so small,” muttered Masruk disappointedly, however, he quickly got over the gnome’s weak appearance and asked a question that had been on his mind. “Greetings tiny creature, do you have any more of these amusing devices?” he asked as he held up the gnomish toy.

Krivax held back a snicker at the Vizier and Warrior unintentionally mimicking one another and moved to greet the gnome. She seemed to be very nervous, so he thought it would be best to act as friendly as possible to put her at ease.

“Hello!” Krivax said kindly. “My name is Krivax, and I’m happy to meet you. What’s your name?”

Krivax began to grow concerned when the gnome’s only response was a strange whining noise. What was wrong with her? She did speak the tuskarr language, right?

“Now that Elder Duunqi has arrived, we can use our magics to aid in translation,” said Elder Si’uigo. Chieftain Ko’nani raised one bushy brow but didn’t comment.

After a few moments of the three tuskarr Elders chanting in some strange language, a wave of magic washed over the building.

Once Elder Si’uigo nodded to him to indicate that the magic had taken hold, Krivax turned his attention to the female gnome and decided to try introducing himself again.

“Greetings,” Krivax said in nerubian, pulling back some of his enthusiasm and allowing the magic to translate for him. “My name is Krivax and this is Masruk. What are your names?”

“I-I’m Trixie Tinkwrench of the Explorer’s League,” said the pink-haired gnome, visibly struggling to compose herself. “These are Malzie Stonehallow, also of the Explorer’s League, and Oscar Smythe, a merchant under the employ of House Ashfort.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Krivax said politely. “Once I learned that the people of Moa’ki Harbor were trading with people from across the ocean, I knew that I had to meet you.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Trixie asked nervously.

“Because my people were unaware of the existence of the Eastern Kingdoms until recently,” Krivax responded, not missing the momentary expressions of surprise and apprehension that passed over her face. “Once I learned about you, I realized the great opportunity for trade and sharing of knowledge that could be gained from cooperation between our people.”

As soon as Krivax finished speaking, Oscar’s expression changed from one of apprehension to one of a starving man who had just been escorted to a buffet.

“Of course! That sounds great!” said Oscar. “I’m certain that the Eastern Kingdoms and Azjol-Nerub have much to offer one another. House Ashfort would be more than glad to cooperate with you and your people.”

Krivax was a bit taken aback, although not displeased, by the enthusiastic merchant. It would make it much easier to convince them to aid him if they were this eager for trade, but that was something that he felt should be discussed later.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Krivax. “However, we can talk more about trade later. If I’ve learned anything over the past few months, it’s that such negotiations take a long time, and I think our efforts would be better spent learning more about each other for now.”

“Of course. Of course. Forgive my enthusiasm,” said Oscar, dialing it back a little.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to hear more about your people,” said Krivax. “Naturally, I will answer any questions you have about Azjol-Nerub as well.”

“That sounds alright,” said Trixie, losing some of her nervousness.

What followed was a long discussion about Ironforge, Gnomeregan, and Lordaeron, with Krivax asking the occasional question under the direction of Vizier Hadix. Most of what he heard were things that Krivax already knew, but he could see the projection of the Vizier looming over the foreigners and staring at them with an intense expression as he took in the information. A part of him wondered if these people were being irresponsible by sharing this information, but it was likely that all of this was considered common knowledge.

Once they were done, Krivax answered any questions that they had about Azjol-Nerub as promised. Although there were a few things that he held back under the order of Vizier Hadix.

“Your people’s kingdom truly spans half of Northrend?” Trixie asked with wide eyes.

”Underneath it, yes. From En’kilah in the west to Naz’anak in the north and my home city of Kilah’kuk in the east, our kingdom is quite large.”

“Hmph. Your people sound smart then, lad.” said the dwarf, Malzie. “Under the ground is the best place to live after all.”

“Malzie, you can’t call him ‘lad,’” said Trixie, admonishing her colleague. “You have no idea how old they are.”

“We are a bit over four years old,” offered Masruk offhandedly.

Krivax imagined that if they were drinking anything when his friend said that then they would have spit-taked. Not only them, but the tuskarr Elders were also trading incredulous looks. The topic of their age had never actually come up in discussion before now. How strange.

“The two of you are… four?” asked Trixie in disbelief. “How long is your lifespan? When do you become an adult? Are all four-year-old nerubians like you?”

Krivax ignored the Vizier’s huff of amusement.

“Nerubian lifespans vary depending on their caste,” said Krivax. “The caste that I and Masruk belong to lives approximately as long as your average human, assuming the humans of your lands live as long as the humans here. Nerubians mature more rapidly than most sapient races we have noticed, as we are both adults by our standards. How long do your people live for?”

“Gnomes and Dwarves can both live up to four hundred years,” said Trixie, still slightly bewildered by the ages of the two nerubians. “I’m not certain how long the elves can live, but I know it’s at least a few millennia.”

Vizier Hadix perked up at this information. “Instruct them to tell you more about these ‘elves.’”

“Elves?” asked Krivax.

“Yes, the High Elves of Quel’thalas,” Trixie elaborated. “They are widely considered by most to be the most powerful kingdom in the Eastern Kingdoms. They live for a very long time and possess extremely powerful magic. I don’t really know much about them because they keep to themselves.”

Krivax couldn’t tell what Hadix thought when he heard that, but after a moment of contemplation, the Vizier told him to move on.

There was one topic in particular that Krivax wanted to discuss, and he felt like now was as good a time as any.

“If I may ask, are there any ongoing conflicts in the Eastern Kingdoms? Anything in particular that you feel like we should know?” asked Krivax as calmly as he could. Even if the answer to this question did not tell him exactly when in the timeline he was, it would at least tell him if the creation of the Lich King was imminent.

Trixie considered the question for a moment before she responded.

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Trixie, ignorant of the immense feeling of relief her words invoked in Krivax. “There is always conflict with the trolls and gnolls, but nothing major to the best of my knowledge.”

Trixie looked to her two companions, seeking their opinion.

Malzie shook his head, and Oscar did as well after a short pause.

“The human hesitated,” said Hadix. “Question him.”

“Oscar, are you aware of any large conflicts?” asked Krivax, silently praying that the answer would be no.

Oscar hesitated for a moment before answering.

“They are merely rumors, but I have been told by some of my fellow merchants that there may be some kind of conflict happening in Stormwind,” Oscar said reluctantly.

“Who is the current ruler of Stormwind?” asked Krivax.

Oscar seemed a bit confused by the question, but he answered anyway.

“King Llane Wrynn. Why do you ask?”

“No particular reason. Merely curiosity.”

Krivax could feel his earlier feeling of relief turn sour. There was no way for him to know for certain, but that conflict in Stormwind could very well be the First War. It was good to know that the Second War had not yet started, as far as these merchants knew, but that did not mean that he could afford to relax. After all, there wasn’t much he could do to actually stop Kil’jaeden from creating the Lich King, and the time between the First and Second War was not as long as he would like.

Krivax thanked Oscar for the information and turned the conversation to lighter topics. They spoke briefly on a variety of topics, such as their respective histories, politics, House Ashfort’s history of trade with Northrend, and the Explorer League’s upcoming expedition.

There was even a moment where Trixie decided to show off her device—which was apparently a Shrink Ray—by using it on one of the lobsters that had been prepared for the nerubians. It was a moment that Krivax would cherish because it was the first time that he had ever seen Vizier Hadix so dumbstruck.

Eventually, the foreigners grew sufficiently comfortable with their presence and Hadix thought that it was time for Krivax to request their assistance.

He briefly described Azjol-Nerub’s excessively isolationist nature—which explained to them why this was their first time learning of the kingdom—and then made his request.

“You would like to present us to your leaders and have us explain to them what they can gain from diplomacy?” asked Trixie, stunned.

“Yes, that is correct,” said Krivax. “I believe that this would go a long way to convincing them.”

Krivax watched as Trixie’s expression alternated between concern and excitement.

“And you are certain that this is safe? If your people are so insular, then would they really be okay with an outsider entering their city?”

“Yes, of course. You will definitely be safe,” said Krivax, lying through his mandibles.

There was no absolute guarantee that they would be safe if they entered Azjol-Nerub, but then again, they were in danger from the moment that the kingdom noticed them. At this point, there was already absolutely no possibility that their ship would leave Moa’ki Harbor without Azjol-Nerub allowing them to do so, not that they knew that, of course.

“My mentor has already secured permission for you to enter the city and meet with our leaders if you are willing,” said Krivax, hoping for everyone’s sake that they would be willing.

At least this time he was not blatantly lying. Vizier Hadix had already secured permission for this from the Underking.

Krivax watched as the foreigners turned to discuss the matter quietly amongst themselves. He could already tell that he would be receiving a positive response from their expressions. Trixie and Malzie both seemed to be excited about the possibility of being permitted into Azjol-Nerub, and the merchant seemed enthralled with the promise of great wealth that trade would offer him.

Sure enough, they seemed to reach a conclusion very quickly.

“We will need to discuss the matter with some of the people from the ship,” said Trixie. “But I expect that we will be able to accept your request.”

“Excellent,” said Hadix, truly pleased.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Krivax, equally as pleased as the Vizier. “After you give me your full answer, I will need to contact my mentor to arrange for transportation.”

Vizier Hadix caught his implied question and responded to him as the meeting turned to other topics.

“I will be ready to open a portal to transport you all to the city in a few days,” said Vizier Hadix.

The Vizier was silent for a moment as his attention turned elsewhere before he refocused on Krivax.

“It is time for my participation in this meeting to come to an end,” said Hadix. “The Underking has summoned me and I must go to him now. I can see that you have this matter well in hand, Initiate. Well done. Continue to gather information and be prepared to report it to me the next time we meet.”

Krivax nodded discreetly to Hadix, signaling his understanding.

“Good. Enjoy your last few days on the surface, Initiate. I suspect that these will be the most relaxing days you have for quite some time.”

With those last foreboding words delivered, the Vizier’s projection quickly faded away.

Krivax held back a sigh as he turned his attention back to the conversation. It seemed like they had finally reached the point where the foreigners were renegotiating their agreements with the tuskarr.

He agreed with the Vizier that his coming days were likely to be more eventful than his current ones, but it might be worth it if whatever was to come did not involve listening to more trade agreements.

As he listened to Oscar complain about the length of their trip and promote the reliability of their business partnership, Krivax couldn’t help but hope that he would not have to attend another meeting like this in the future.

At least once the kingdom officially manages to establish diplomatic relations with the Eastern Kingdoms, I should be able to hand things like this over to someone else. Right?

Chapter Text

Trixie had spent the past few days oscillating between terror and exhilaration about her impending diplomatic journey to the underground kingdom of the spider-people. Terror because no matter how many times Krivax reassured her, she knew that there was always a possibility that she would not leave Northrend alive, and exhilaration because she was about to see things no gnome had ever seen before.

This was why she had chosen to join the Explorer’s League instead of becoming a Tinker like the rest of her family… at least not as her main profession.

A part of her wished that they could have gone immediately after they finished negotiations with the tuskarr, but there were preparations that needed to be made first. However, today would be the day that she, Malzie, and Oscar would meet with the leaders of the spiderpeople and plead their case for a peaceful and diplomatic future between them and the Eastern Kingdoms.

Now she was just waiting in the middle of the tuskarr village for Krivax’s mage mentor to teleport in and open a portal that they could use to travel to the spider kingdom. She did wish that he would hurry up though; unlike the spiderpeople, her clothes didn’t completely protect her from the cold.

“Are you ready for this, lass?” asked Malzie, looking just as nervous and excited as she felt.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, big man,” Trixie said as confidently as she could. “How about you? How are you feeling about all of this?”

“Not entirely sure how I should feel,” Malzie admitted reluctantly. “This ain’t really something people can prepare for, is it? Still, if we make it out of here then we’ll probably end up the most famous members of the League next to the Bronzebeard brothers and Muninn Magellas themselves!”

Trixie smiled at her friend's optimism. If she truly managed to become so famous, it would do a lot to help convince her family that she made the right decision in becoming an Explorer.

“Who cares about fame?” scoffed Oscar. The man was shivering and pulling on his fur coat, but that didn’t seem to dampen his spirits at all. “If we succeed in forming a relationship with these spiderpeople, we could all potentially become fabulously wealthy. What does fame matter in the face of that?”

“I don’t see how that would apply to me,” Trixie said dubiously. “I’m an Explorer, not a merchant.”

“That’s simply because you lack vision,” said Oscar bluntly. “If we make it back to the Eastern Kingdoms, then the three of us will be the ones who have the most experience dealing with these creatures. That fact alone will see any number of Merchant Guilds eager to solicit your aid at the least.”

She thought about the merchant’s words and decided that while they had merit, it didn’t matter much to her. She wanted to be an Explorer, not run off to work for a Merchant Guild.

Trixie turned her attention to the spiderperson wearing black and red robes who was quietly speaking to his friend in his harsh chittering language. Two smaller spider-like creatures with a thin membrane between their legs were currently sitting on his back. According to him, the creatures were the same species as him, except they weren’t sapient? Except when they were?

These two particular flyers were only about as intelligent as one of the hounds that humans seemed to like so much, but there were apparently some that were as intelligent as a person.

Trixie was doing her best not to think about it.

“Krivax, how much longer until your mentor arrives?” Trixie asked while speaking tuskarr.

“He should be arriving any time now,” answered Krivax in the same language, turning his attention to her. “I’m not certain why he has not arrived yet, but Vizier Hadix has always preferred to… move at his own pace.”

Trixie hummed in acknowledgment, even if she was not fully satisfied by the answer. She didn’t appreciate being made to wait out in the cold, but Krivax was not the one who she should take her frustrations out on. He had been nothing but friendly and helpful these past few days and had done a lot to ease her worries.

Trixie was just about to ask more about what they could expect from the spider kingdom when a bright violet light suddenly began to shine a few feet away from them.

If she weren’t wearing her goggles, then she would probably have been forced to turn her gaze away from the dazzling light, but as it was, she was able to watch as arcane glyphs formed on the ground and ‘Vizier Hadix’ appeared in the center of the light.

As Trixie strained her neck to look up at the spiderperson, she was once again befuddled by the variety of appearances of this race.

Standing at what she estimated to be ten to twelve feet tall, Vizier Hadix possessed four legs, four arms, and was wearing a set of extravagant teal robes and a headdress that would put even the wealthiest of mages to shame. He also seemed to exude a subtle air of danger that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Trixie wasn’t sure if it was just because she knew that he was a powerful mage, but her instincts told her that Vizier Hadix was not someone she wanted to get on the bad side of.

The Vizier completely ignored everyone aside from Krivax and began speaking to him in their language. Trixie had no idea what they were saying, but she could tell that Krivax was acting much more respectfully while talking to the Vizier than he had ever acted with her or even the tuskarr Chieftain.

After a few moments, their conversation seemed to finish and the Vizier immediately began to cast a spell without any further comment.

Trixie watched in awe as a portal quickly opened up a few feet in front of the Vizier, revealing several armored spiderpeople waiting for them on the other side. She was no mage, but she was fairly certain that creating a portal was not a simple matter.

“It’s time,” said Krivax. “Vizier Hadix won’t hold the portal open for long, so we’d better get moving.”

With that said, the two spiderpeople quickly made their way through the portal. After sharing a nervous glance with Malzie, she decided to follow after them.

The first thing Trixie noticed as she stepped through the portal was the relative warmth and complete lack of breeze. This was not particularly surprising given the fact that they were underground and there was a brazier in the corner of the room lit with a blue flame.

The second thing she noticed was the intense focus that the armored guards were directing toward her. Trixie had the distinct feeling that if she had not been explicitly invited that she would have already been skewered by their spears.

After a few moments, Malzie and Oscar stepped through the portal as well and were forced to hastily move out of the way as the Vizier followed behind them. The portal closed shortly afterward, leaving them with no way back

A few harsh clicks of spider talk from the Vizier sent the armored guards moving to take a formation around them.

"Follow us carefully," said Krivax. Trixie hurried to do just that as the spider people started to make their way out of the building they had portaled into. "According to Vizier Hadix, we need to start moving now if we wish to arrive there on time.”

Once they stepped out of the building, only the threat of the armored guards surrounding them prevented her from stopping and taking in her surroundings.

Trixie was filled with a sense of awe as she looked at all the fantastical sights around her. She could tell that she was currently in a gigantic cavern that stretched farther than she could estimate and was filled with carefully constructed structures of an architectural style unlike any she had ever seen before. Gigantic webs of silk were carefully woven between different structures, serving as some kind of road for spiderpeople to travel along and groups of ‘flyers’ freely flew throughout the cavern.

There even seemed to be buildings suspended in the air purely by webs! Once she saw that Trixie couldn’t help but try and calculate the approximate tensile strength of the spiderpeople’s silk. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough information to do so and she was also busy trying her best to keep up with the rest of the group.

Keeping up with Big Folk was hard enough when they only had two legs like she did.

Thankfully, it seems like their destination was not far from wherever the portal brought them, because soon enough, they reached a massive ziggurat that was more ornately designed than the rest. It wasn’t hard to guess that this was their destination.

A few more harsh clicks to the guards from the Vizier had their group entering without much fuss. Once they were inside, it was only a few more moments of frantically trying to keep up and ignoring the multitude of stares directed toward them before they reached the room that had been set aside for their meeting.

She could tell that this was the correct room because waiting inside was a massive creature that matched Krivax’s description of a ‘Spiderlord.’

The twenty-foot tall creature possessed a bottom half that looked like a mixture between a beetle and a spider, a thick brown carapace, a large sharp horn, and scythelike arms that were larger than Trixie’s entire body. As their group made their way further into the room, she was also able to make out a pair of wings hiding behind its carapace.

Of course. It’s not enough to be a terrifying twenty-foot-tall creature that could probably take on a dwarven steam tank, but they can also probably fly.

Standing next to the Spiderlord was a similarly gigantic creature that Trixie assumed to be a Queen. In terms of appearance, she wasn’t actually all that different from the two spiderpeople who she had spent the most time with… aside from her massive size and the giant bloated abdomen behind her that Trixie assumed to be filled with eggs. The Queen was also wearing jewel-encrusted anklets around her many legs, a set of pure white silk robes, and a wide fanning headdress similar to what the Viziers wore.

Trixie also noticed how the Queen was being constantly tended to by at least half a dozen of those smaller spider creatures which were sometimes people and sometimes animals that Krivax called skitterers.

She failed to hold back a shudder as she reduced the zooming function on her goggles. The Queen's massive size only made it easier for Trixie to make out the details of her terrifying face.

Standing behind and to the sides of the Queen and the Spiderlord were three large statues with lower bodies and heads that resembled large cats, upper bodies that were similar to gnomes with two large sets of wings, and were each holding a large crystal in their clawed hands.

Trixie assumed that they were larger versions of the magic crystals that she had seen Krivax use to contact the Vizier. The closest equivalent that her own people had was a gnomecorder, except a gnomecorder was unable to transmit visual images. Unfortunately for Trixie, they were also not powerful enough to establish communication between continents, otherwise she may have been able to ask for advice from someone who actually knew what they were doing.

Aside from the Spiderlord, Queen, skitterers, and the three out-of-place winged cat statues, there was also a multitude of spiderpeople spread throughout the room. Trixie could see several groups of Viziers standing off to the sides of the room and speaking quietly to one another, and several spiderpeople sticking to the walls with their webs or hanging from the ceiling.

After their group reached the center of the room and the spiderpeople that had escorted them slipped into the crowd, the Spiderlord silenced the crowd with a few words before gesturing toward one of the groups of Viziers.

Trixie watched with trepidation as the Viziers spread themselves throughout the room and began casting magic. Their purpose became obvious as an arcane glyph manifested itself across the floor of the room and the Spiderlord spoke words that Trixie was startled to find she could suddenly understand.

“Are you able to understand my words, outsiders?” asked the Spiderlord in a deep voice.

“Oh! Uh, yes we can, your… grace?” Trixie said in a rush, speaking up for the group. She held back a grimace at her jumbled words. She hardly knew how to properly refer to human aristocrats, let alone spider aristocrats.

“Good,” said the Spiderlord, seemingly uncaring of her ignorance. “I am Underking Kuk’arak. With me is Queen Mel’ras, and we are joined by the various leaders of the city of Kilah’kuk. This meeting will also be observed via scrying crystal by High King Anub’arak and his council, as well as the leadership of En’kilah and Naz’anak. You are here to answer our questions about the land you refer to as the Eastern Kingdoms. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Underking Kuk’arak,” Trixie said as politely as she could, struggling to pronounce the spiderperson’s strange name.

“You will begin by introducing yourselves,” said the Spiderlord, his tone brooking no argument.

“I am Trixie Tinkwrench of the Explorer’s League,” said Trixie, only just now realizing that her words were being magically carried across the large room. They had previously decided that Trixie would speak for them when possible, so she quickly introduced her companions as well. “With me are Malzie Stonehallow, also of the Explorer’s League, and Oscar Smythe, a merchant under the employ of House Ashfort.”

“Your first contact with our people was several days ago when you met with an Initiate of the Circle of Viziers by the name of Krivax, correct?”

“Yes, Underking,” said Trixie.

“During this meeting, you shared details of your people and your lands with Initiate Krivax, correct?”

“Yes, that is correct, Underking.”

“Repeat those details for those who are listening,” ordered Underking Kuk’arak.

Trixie winced. This was probably going to take a while.

Trixie spent the next few hours answering all the questions asked of her in regard to the Eastern Kingdoms while doing her best to make the continent sound like one the spiderpeople would want to cooperate with. For the most part, the Spiderlord asked her about the Eastern Kingdom’s politics, governments, and potential threats while the Queen asked her about its races, especially the elves and the trolls. Trixie answered what she could while Malzie and Oscar contributed by answering about subjects that they knew better.

Some of the muttered responses to their answers—the source of which she could never quite find—were very… interesting.

“It seems that these Eastern Kingdoms are politically stable enough and face only minor threats. Nothing that should drag us into anything unpleasant at first glance.”

“So the foolish elves didn’t wipe themselves totally out after all. We will need to update their status from extinct to merely misplaced.”

“It is unfortunate that these new lands also have trolls. The Drakkari are an annoyance enough as it is. It’s possible that their damned Loa knew about this the entire time.”

“These other races sound fascinating. So much to study…”

Once they were done with those topics, one of the Viziers stepped forward and asked them questions about magic. Unfortunately, she was able to answer very few of those questions, although the Viziers did seem interested when she told them about Dalaran. After they finished answering questions about magic, the Viziers switched to asking about the Eastern Kingdom’s technology. Thankfully, Trixie was more than able to answer questions like that and a demonstration of her Shrink Ray on an offered skitterer—which she was assured wasn’t sapient—sent many of the Viziers into a short frenzy that the Underking had to calm down himself.

“How in the world did such a small device reduce the mass and density of a living creature to such a degree without killing it? Does it function similarly to the Reduce spell?”

“Not only that, but this technology can be used by anyone. It's not unlike some of the low-level spellweaves.”

“This goes far beyond the device that we studied earlier.”

“Apparently, the small ones are the most technologically adept races on the continent. This opens up many possibilities.”

“This will no doubt lead to the Technological Research Division getting a raise in funding…”

The Vizier that Trixie recognized as Krivax’s mentor stepped forward to ask about the potential for trade and Oscar stepped forward to give his best presentation on the subject. The merchant spoke at length about the value of the spiderpeople’s silk and ores, and the various goods that the Eastern Kingdom could offer them in turn; focusing on foodstuffs, technology, and magical knowledge and supplies.

“To think these foreigners would be lacking in such basic resources. Pathetic.”

“While it's doubtful that these lesser beings have much to offer that we can’t produce ourselves, their knowledge and novelties might have some interest, at the very least.”

“This ‘Church of the Holy Light’ seems like an interesting research subject.”

“I very much doubt they have anything we could not replicate ourselves.”

“I wonder if they have any foods as delicious as shellfish…”

By the time they were done answering questions, Trixie could tell that the Underking was the only thing keeping the audience from breaking out into loud conversation.

“Does anybody have any more questions for the outsiders?” asked Underking Kuk’arak. The room was quiet for several more moments before the Spiderlord continued. “Very well. The outsiders will be made to wait elsewhere while we discuss everything that we have heard.”

“Thank you for your time, Underking Kuk’arak,” said Trixie as diplomatically as she could. “I hope the future of our people's relationship is one of cooperation.”

With that said, she and her companions turned to leave the room under the escort of the armored guards who had brought them there. Trixie had expected Krivax and Masruk to join them given they were the only ones who could communicate with them without magic. Apparently, they thought so as well since the two spiderpeople moved to follow them before Krivax was stopped by his mentor.

Trixie was barely able to hear what the Vizier said to Krivax as she passed by them.

“Not you,” said the Vizier. “You need to be here for the rest of this meeting. Your Warrior friend will go with them.”

“Yes, Vizier,” said Krivax. After saying a few words to his friend that Trixie could not make out, Masruk nodded and moved to follow their group.

As they left the room, Trixie couldn’t find it in herself to wonder about the little by-play, because she had more important things to think about. Trixie was not entirely certain what caused it specifically, but halfway through the meeting, her instincts started to tell her that she had seriously underestimated the xenophobia of the spiderpeople.

Trixie had a very real feeling that there was a chance that they would not be allowed to leave safely.

Now, the only thing she could bring herself to focus on was praying to any god that was listening that the discussion that the spiderpeople were about to have would result in a decision that would allow her to see her family again.

Chapter Text

While the group of foreign beings were escorted out of the room, Vizier Hadix focused his attention on the mood of those around him.

It became immediately obvious to him that arranging for the foreigners to be presented to the kingdom’s leadership was the correct decision. While many of the voices he could hear seemed to favor isolating Azjol-Nerub from the Eastern Kingdoms, a large portion of the leadership was interested in the potential benefits that could be gained from the new lands.

Hadix knew without a doubt that if the Order had not gone to significant lengths to direct key members of the leadership toward a more outward-looking policy, then that portion would be substantially smaller.

As it was, this was a favorable start and Hadix was confident that the kingdom would reach the conclusion that it was in its best interest to establish a presence in the Eastern Kingdoms.

Hadix glanced toward one of the Viziers from the Technological Research Division and gave him a nearly imperceptible nod once he caught their attention. It wouldn’t do for Hadix to publicly push for his agenda given his connection to the Initiate responsible for discovering the Eastern Kingdoms in the first place if he wanted to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

And he very much did want to avoid that.

Therefore, Hadix had… convinced a Vizier that was seemingly unrelated to himself to push his agenda for him.

Vizier Cre’al visibly flinched when Hadix nodded at him, but he still obediently moved to carry out the nonverbal command.

“Underking Kuk’arak,” said Vizier Cre’al, silencing the crowd as everyone turned their attention to him. “I believe I speak for my colleagues in the Technological Research Division when I say that it is in the best interest of the kingdom of Azjol-Nerub to establish a diplomatic presence in the Eastern Kingdoms and learn what we can from its natives.”

“The Arcane Research Division supports this as well for the potential it has in expanding our magical knowledge base by introducing new factors and insights,” Vizier Ci’as agreed, pleasantly surprising Hadix because she needed no prompting on his part to do so.

Most likely due to her Division anticipating the benefits of a relationship with the surface in regards to the new arcane aligned reagents collected from the Lothalor Woodlands and hoping for more.

Hadix listened carefully to the surrounding responses.

“We stand to gain much knowledge from these new lands… “

“I wonder if there are any reagents in the Eastern Kingdoms that could be used to create a superior healing potion.”

“We should prioritize studying the technology of these ‘gnomes.’”

“It would be wise for the kingdom to keep a close eye on these lands for potential threats.”

Similar voices echoed throughout the room, with most being positive or at least neutral with few outright dissenting against it.

The response was more positive than Hadix had expected, although he could tell that there were many who held different opinions and were not speaking up. The natural curiosity of the Viziers and the desire of the Weavers for trading goods that would benefit their various crafts pushed against their insular nature.

“Ridiculous.”

All discussion in the room was immediately silenced by the deep voice of a Spiderlord coming from the Naz’anak scrying crystal.

“Why should our kingdom associate itself with lesser creatures? What could they possibly have to offer us? Are our Viziers so inept that they need to learn from foreigners? Are we so incompetent that we need the help of others to acquire the materials that this kingdom needs?” said Underking Anub’esset derisively. Many who were previously quiet started to mutter in support of the Underking. “If we allow those foreigners to return to the Eastern Kingdoms, then our lands will soon be crawling with outsiders whether we want it or not. We should kill these creatures and destroy their transport before it is too late!”

Hadix didn’t bother holding back a scoff. It was obvious to everyone that Naz’anak would benefit the least out of all the present cities from diplomatic ties with the Eastern Kingdoms, given the city’s focus on producing Warriors over Viziers or Weavers. The Spiderlord’s objections more likely stemmed more from that fact rather than an actual ideological opposition. Hadix wasn’t the only one who could pick up on this fact and the Underking would almost certainly face pushback.

Sure enough, mocking laughter echoed from the En’kilah scrying crystal as soon as Underking Anub’esset finished speaking.

“Are you truly so scared, Anub’esset?” said Underking Naferset, his voice filled with mockery. “Are your Warriors so incapable of handling a few lesser creatures exploring our lands that you believe we should hide like newly born hatchlings? It’s obvious to everyone that the kingdom would be better off learning more about these new lands rather than hiding like cowards.”

Naferset was no less self-interested than Anub’esset given the relatively large focus his city put on creating capable Viziers. En’kilah stood to benefit greatly from the new knowledge that they could potentially learn.

“Who are you calling a coward, Naferset?! I doubt you would be so brave if you were speaking to me in person!”

“I have better things to do than fight with a fool,” said Underking Naferset with a scoff. “We would be better off discussing the composition of the diplomatic party that we’ll be sending to the Eastern Kingdoms.”

“You act as if we have already made a decision,” rebuked Underking Kuk’arak. “I, for one, still have reservations on the matter.”

Hadix had done his best to direct Underking Kuk’arak to a more outward-looking policy, but his success was severely hampered by the Order’s relatively light presence in Kilah’kuk. Kuk’arak was steadily warming up to the idea of increased interaction with outsiders due to the benefits that trading with the tuskarr had brought to his city, but centuries of belief were difficult to overcome.

“I agree with Underking Nasferset,” said Queen Mel’ras as one of her skitterers delivered a lobster to her grasp. “We have much to gain from studying these new races and the trading goods that the human expressed interest in are easily acquired. The kingdom produces plenty of ore and there is no shortage of low-grade silk that we could trade for valuable goods. After all, it’s only the higher-grade magical silks that we would need to restrict from trading.”

The Weavers were able to produce many high-grade silks with magical silks with fantastical properties that the kingdom would not want in the hands of outsiders.

Hadix noted that many of the Weavers he could see relaxed slightly at the words of Queen Mel’ras. Many of them were extremely protective of their more powerful silks, and would naturally oppose trading them away to outsiders.

The discussion continued on like that for a while, with several important leaders arguing for their positions on either side of the matter. Hadix was gratified to see that Vizier Cre’al succeeded in pushing the narrative toward establishing diplomatic contact by constantly mentioning the benefits of doing so whenever someone spoke against it. Vizier Silvos also spoke in favor on occasion, but he remained quiet for the most part.

“There is also the matter of the prophesied tide of death,” said the aged voice of Elder Nadox, one of the most politically powerful Viziers in Azjol-Nerub and trusted advisor to High King Anub’arak. “It would greatly increase the security of our kingdom if our people were able to spread to another continent.”

At the Vizier’s words, the discussion suddenly stopped and Hadix could feel himself want to chuckle with mirth. While Nadox was not a member of the Order, his apprentice—Seer Ixit—was, and he had done everything he could to convince the Elder that the kingdom needed to spread to the Eastern Kingdoms if it wanted to survive.

It seems that Ixit’s efforts have paid off, Hadix thought with amusement.

Nobody wanted to speak against the Elder, due both to the political power he wielded and their unease over the unknown calamity that many of the kingdom’s seers could sense approaching. Hearing Elder Nadox tell them that their kingdom would be significantly safer if they expanded to another continent was a great source of discomfort for most of them.

Just as the silence was beginning to grow awkward, a voice that nearly every leader in the kingdom would recognize carried across the room.

“Enough,” said High King Anub’arak in a tone that brooked no argument. “The kingdom of Azjol-Nerub will send a diplomatic party to join the outsiders as they return to the Eastern Kingdoms. This team must be capable of establishing a permanent portal connection between the kingdom and these new lands if we decide it is in our best interests to do so. Matters of trade will be handled on a case-by-case basis. We will now move the discussion to the details and composition of this diplomatic party.”

With that, the discussion on whether or not the kingdom should interact with the Eastern Kingdoms was brought to an end. Although the various cities of the kingdom had a large amount of autonomy, none of them would dare to directly contradict the orders of the High King on such a serious matter.

Hadix was unsurprised that the High King had chosen to step in.

While the kingdom was extremely isolationist, it was obviously in their interest to have some amount of contact with these newly discovered lands, even if only to keep an eye on them.

Though, the nature and the degree of that contact was still up for negotiation.

It was likely that the High King wished for the diplomatic party to gather additional information about the Eastern Kingdoms so that he could make a more informed decision at a later date.

There were many short-sighted fools who would prefer to simply kill all the outsiders, destroy their ship, and never worry about them again, but fortunately, Anub’arak was a fairly competent ruler.

The discussion was quiet for several more moments before the crowd slowly started to argue over who would be sent with the group. Each of the cities wanted to send its own people so that they could push their respective city’s agendas.

Hadix spent a while listening and decided to step forward after Underking Anub’esset shamelessly proposed to send one of his direct subordinates with the diplomatic party he previously spoke out against.

The Order had decided that it would be best if he was the one who traveled to the Eastern Kingdoms so that he could begin scouting these new lands for the influence of the Old Ones.

After all, his direct relationship with the Initiate behind the discovery of the Eastern Kingdoms made it easy to justify his inclusion in the diplomatic party.

“Leaders of the kingdom of Azjol-Nerub, I am Vizier Hadix of Kilah’kuk’s Surface Research Division,” he said, attracting the attention of everybody listening to himself. Hadix gestured to Krivax with one of his arms and watched him tense as the crowd turned their attention to him. “I am the mentor of the one who was directly responsible for discovering these new lands, Initiate Krivax. I would like to put forward myself, Initiate Krivax, and Neophyte Masruk to be sent as members of this diplomatic party due to our experience in dealing with races of the surface.”

“You, I could understand, Vizier Hadix,” said Underking Naferset, with an edge of skepticism. “I could even perhaps understand sending your Initiate, as young as he may be. But why should we send a Neophyte with this expedition?”

Because the two of them are practically inseparable and I don’t want to deal with the brat’s whining if I try to split them apart.

Not only had Initiate Krivax shown himself to possess a useful talent for diplomacy with the surface, but Hadix was loath to leave the talented Initiate in the hands of Malas. As such, it was best to bring the Initiate along to the Eastern Kingdoms instead of leaving him behind and allowing his potential to be squandered… or worse.

“Neophyte Masruk has spent more time than most on the surface,” said Vizier Hadix. “He has shown himself to be competent at communicating with the other races and will be a useful asset. He has also fought with and against the surface races, observing how they fight in great detail, something which I believe will be very important when studying these foreigners in their own lands."

It was not the strongest of justifications on his part, but it was good enough that nobody cared to fight him over it.

The discussion went on for quite some time and was made more difficult by the limited amount of space on the foreigner’s wooden ship, but they were eventually able to agree on the composition of the diplomatic party.

En’kilah would send a Vizier who was both proficient in technologies and experienced in creating permanent portals. Azjol-Nerub would send Weavers who were highly knowledgeable about the kingdom’s material needs and could assist in any potential trade negotiations. Naz’anak would provide the Warriors that would both offer protection to the rest of the envoys and evaluate these new lands for potential threats. Kilah’kuk would send Vizier Hadix to handle any necessary diplomatic negotiations, and he would be accompanied by Initiate Kirvax and Neophyte Masruk.

At one point, the discussion devolved into a heated argument on the merits of sending a Spiderlord to act as head of the party’s protection detail, with many pointing out that the outsider’s ship was not large enough to comfortably transport one. Azjol-Nerub might not have its own maritime tradition, but the Viziers were smart enough to understand that a Spiderlord would be forced to stay on the deck and would face severe difficulties during long sea travel.

However, many thought sending a Spiderlord would be essential as both protection and a show of force to the surface races.

Eventually, it was decided that a Spiderlord would be sent after some of the Viziers from En’kilah proposed that the Spiderlord be fastened to the ship with adhesive waterproof silk and put to sleep with a potion to stave away boredom.

There were a few more things that they needed to discuss after they reached an agreement on the diplomatic party’s composition, but they eventually finished and the meeting was ended by High King Anub’arak. After giving an order for the members of the diplomatic party to prepare for their journey to the Eastern Kingdoms, the scrying crystal for Azjol-Nerub went dark and the other two crystals soon followed.

Hadix couldn’t help but sigh in relief. The meeting had gone as expected and the results were as favorable as he could reasonably hope for. Turning his attention to Initiate Krivax, Hadix could see that the Initiate was still filled with tension, but he was slowly relaxing.

We’re not done yet, Initiate, thought Hadix with no small amount of humor. You’re about to become the center of the crowd’s attention for the second time today.

“As you have heard, the High King has decided to establish a diplomatic relationship with the Eastern Kingdoms,” said Underking Kuk’arak to the city’s leadership. “There is no doubt that this will bring great change to this kingdom, and you all will be responsible for guiding our people through this. I am sure you all have much to think about. If nobody has anything else to discuss, then you are all dismissed. I will send a messenger to inform the outsiders of our decision.”

“In fact, there is something further that I would like to discuss,” said Hadix, just as everyone was preparing to leave the room. “I wish to take this opportunity to ask a favor of Queen Mel’ras.”

“Oh? What favor is it that you wish to ask me?” asked the Queen, her tone one of curiosity. Her bulbous abdomen swayed as she directed her attention away from the skitterers that were crawling along her body to deliver food to her mandibles and turned that attention to Hadix.

“I would ask that you elevate Initiate Krivax to the Vizier caste before he is sent to the Eastern Kingdoms, Queen Mel’ras.”

Hadix could see from the corner of his vision that Initiate Krivax had completely stopped moving after processing what was just said. The room was silent for only a short, surprised moment before one of the Viziers loudly objected to the proposal.

“That is a ridiculous proposition! That Initiate is barely more than a hatchling! How could you believe him worthy of such an honor?!”

None of the other Viziers started yelling, but it was obvious that they did not approve of the proposition. The Warriors and Weavers watched with interest but were otherwise uninvested in the matter.

“It’s simple really,” Hadix said coldly, turning his gaze to the noisy Vizier. “Initiate Krivax has contributed more to this kingdom in his short tenure as an Initiate and my student by discovering the Eastern Kingdoms than many of those in this room will contribute in their entire lives.”

That was enough to cause many of the Viziers to break out into angry condemnations, but their opinions were irrelevant so Hadix simply ignored them and turned his attention back to the Queen.

Queen Mel’ras was the one who had the final say over who was and was not elevated to a higher caste in the city of Kilah’kuk. The only reason that the Circle of Viziers was usually able to control which of their members were elevated was because the Queen was incredibly difficult to actually meet with. Even if you did meet her, the situation usually did not allow for requests to be made of her, but Hadix felt that this situation was different. Not only was it true that the Initiate in question had contributed greatly to the kingdom, but he was also about to be sent on an extremely important mission.

Hadix was not foolish enough to miss this opportunity to increase the value of an Initiate that was so closely tied to himself. Especially given the plans that he had for the young mage.

“How bold of you,” said Queen Mel’ras with a chuckle. “Do you truly believe your Initiate is worthy of me spending the effort to elevate him?”

“I do,” Vizier Hadix said without hesitation.

“And you, Initiate?” asked Queen Mel’ras after a short pause. “Do you believe you are ready to become a Vizier?”

The question seemed to startle Initiate Krivax out of whatever daze he was in.

“Yes, Queen Mel’ras!” said Initiate Krivax. “I am ready to become a Vizier and serve the kingdom to the best of my ability!”

He’s overdoing it a little, but it was still a good enough answer I suppose, thought Hadix. He could tell that Queen Mel’ras seemed to think so as well.

“Very well,” said Queen Mel’ras, waving her hand dismissively. “I suppose it is no great burden, and it’s not every day that an Initiate discovers a whole new continent. Bring him to me tomorrow. The process is not a quick one and I will need to begin soon if you do not wish to delay the expedition.”

With that said, the Queen moved to leave without further comment, her gaggle of skitterer attendants hot on her heels or even under her bloated abdomen in an attempt to help lessen her load.

“If there is nothing else, then you are all dismissed,” said Underking Kuk’arak.

This time, nobody interrupted him and everyone started to make their way out of the room while discussing the implications of everything that had happened during the meeting.

Initiate Krivax moved to leave as well—likely to meet with the outsiders and his Warrior friend—before Hadix stopped him by placing an arm on the Initiate’s shoulder.

“Vizier Hadix? Is there something further that you need from me?”

“Yes, there is,” said Hadix, his amusement growing as he watched the young mage’s expression grow increasingly nervous. “The outsiders will have to wait. I have something important to show you.”

“What is it, Vizier Hadix?” asked Initiate Krivax, trying and failing to hide his apprehension.

“You’ll see when we reach there,” Hadix said simply as he turned and began walking towards the room’s exit. “Follow me.”

After a few hesitant moments, Hadix heard the skittering footsteps of the Initiate and he allowed his mind to wander as he thought about the conversation he was about to have with the young one.

When he first decided to arrange for Initiate Krivax to be designated to his Division, he did so because of the Initiate’s drive and talent. As he watched the young mage devote all of his free time and energy to learning magic, Hadix had even started to think it would be a good idea to induct the Initiate into the Order after a few decades due to his constant drive to learn and improve.

However, none of his plans could have foreseen what Initiate Krivax had accomplished over such a short time. When Hadix allowed him to travel to the surface with the intention of interacting with the surface races, he had thought nothing of importance would come of it.

How wrong he was.

Now things had changed, and it was in his best interests for Initiate Krivax to learn about the Order before they left for the Eastern Kingdoms.

There was some amount of risk, given that Initiate Krivax was now too well known to be disposed of discreetly if he reacted poorly. Unfortunately, there were many who were fanatically loyal to the kingdom and did not approve once they learned that there was a secret organization of Viziers that held significant political power behind the scenes.

He was also young, inexperienced in many things, and highly idealistic; all traits that usually were not usually a great fit for the Order.

Still, Hadix believed that he had a good understanding of Initiate Krivax by now, and he knew how to pluck the right threads to get what he wanted.

Chapter Text

Krivax did his best to shake off the residual discomfort that came with being teleported.

After the meeting, Vizier Hadix had ominously told him that he had something important to tell him and ordered Krivax to follow him. The moment the two of them had reached a secure location without any witnesses, the Vizier had abruptly teleported them both to an unknown location and Krivax had no idea what was happening.

As soon as Krivax managed to find his bearings, he quickly took a look at his surroundings, hoping he would be able to figure out where he was.

He quickly realized that Vizier Hadix had taken him to an isolated cavern that was illuminated only by bioluminescent mushrooms that were growing on the cavern walls. No matter how hard he looked, Krivax couldn’t see any exits or entrances to the cavern, nor could he see any other nerubians aside from the Vizier who was patiently waiting for him to finish taking in his new environment.

Krivax looked down at the teleportation locus that was under his feet and tried his best to read the various arcane glyphs that formed it. Despite Vizier Hadix making it seem otherwise, long-distance teleportation was not an easy magic that any mage could use without difficulty. The locus, as far as Krivax could tell, served to make it easier for authorized mages to teleport into the cavern while simultaneously denying the spatial magic of those who were unauthorized.

Unfortunately, Krivax was not knowledgeable enough about arcane glyphs to understand how the locus decided who was and was not authorized, so he decided to turn his attention back to the rest of his surroundings.

The two of them were standing on a platform that was suspended in the air by long strands of silk attached to the walls and ceiling, and in front of them was a silk bridge that led to a truly massive ziggurat that reached from the base of the cavern to its roof. Krivax was used to ziggurats being centers of activity as nerubians constantly entered and exited them as they went about their business, so to see one so devoid of life was… ominous and unsettling.

Standing completely still on both sides of the bridge were a pair of obsidian destroyers, similar to the ones he had seen earlier in the day. While they might seem like mere statues, Krivax knew that they would have killed him in an instant if he had come here without permission.

The things gave him the creeps since Krivax was well aware that they were titan-forged tol'vir that the nerubians enslaved millennia ago when they first moved into the lands that would become Northrend, turning them into killing machines under their control.

I really hope Hadix didn’t bring me here in order to get rid of me. This place gives me the creeps.

“Vizier Hadix, what is this place?” Krivax asked nervously, praying that his mentor was not about to break into some kind of villainous monologue.

“This place, Initiate, is the headquarters for the Order of Kal’tut,” said Vizier Hadix, his voice more solemn than Krivax had ever heard before. “A secret organization of Viziers to which I belong and one which I brought you here to learn about.”

“What is the Order of Kal’tut, Vizier?” Krivax asked curiously, hoping that he wasn’t about to be forcibly inducted into some kind of cult.

“Follow me,” said Vizier Hadix as he turned and began making his way across the bridge and to the ziggurat. “I will explain everything to you soon enough.”

Krivax couldn’t help but ask another question as he hurried to follow the Vizier.

“If this ziggurat belongs to the ‘Order of Kal’tut,’ then where is everybody?”

“I informed the Order of our arrival ahead of time. You are not yet authorized to know the identities of the Order’s members,” Vizier Hadix said matter of factly. “Many of them are still here, of course, but you will not see them until later.”

That really doesn’t ease my worries that I’m about to be inducted into a cult, Krivax thought gloomily.

The distance between the platform with the teleportation locus and the ziggurat was not very far, so it didn’t take very long before they were walking through the entrance.

A part of him was surprised to see that the ziggurat was not noticeably different from any of the other ziggurats he had entered before, aside from its emptiness. One would think that the headquarters of some kind of secret organization would be a bit more… distinctive.

That impression quickly changed once they exited the hallway and entered the ziggurat's first chamber. Krivax could see that there were many hallways connected to the room that were each visibly indistinguishable from one another. The room itself was empty of any decorations or adornments aside from a few enchanted braziers placed in its corners, but in its center was an ornate plinth that supported a crucible that was filled with some kind of pitch-black liquid.

Krivax didn’t understand why, but something about the liquid disquieted him even from across the room. That feeling only grew as he reluctantly followed Vizier Hadix when he walked straight to the center of the room.

Once he got close enough that the crucible was within touching distance, Krivax noticed that both the plinth and the crucible were covered in a dense array of arcane glyphs. After opening up his magical senses, Krivax was astonished to discover the powerful wards that were connected to the objects. However, as powerful as these wards were, it was the pitch-black liquid that drew his full attention.

Directing his magical senses to the liquid made Krivax feel as if he was suddenly looking over a dark unending abyss while being utterly certain that something he could not see was looking back in turn. The longer he looked, the more he felt as if could hear the sound of whispering voices and see flickers of movement in the corner of his vision. Once he noticed feelings of doubt, despair, and panic growing inside of him, Krivax hurriedly turned his attention away from the dark liquid.

“Vizier Hadix, what is this?” asked Krivax, struggling to keep his internal panic out of his voice.

“This is something that I asked the Order to arrange for us,” Vizier Hadix said calmly. “It is a sort of tradition for those who first learn of the Order to witness a… demonstration of what this liquid is capable of.”

Without further comment, Vizier Hadix reached into one of his spatial bags and pulled out a still living lobster, and then casually threw it into the crucible. Living creatures were much more difficult to spatially store than objects, but magically storing a non-sapient lobster with such a simple soul was well within the Vizier’s ability.

Krivax watched with trepidation as the liquid seemed to reach out to grab the lobster as it approached. The crucible was obviously not very deep given that the crustacean was not fully submerged, but that only made it easier for him to look on in horror as the shellfish slowly mutated.

At first, parts of its previously red shell became varying shades of purple while others morphed into some kind of strange fleshy substance. After a while, small wandering eyes and tiny mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth could be seen growing randomly across its body. By the time the mutated lobster began to grow small twisting tentacles, it was obvious to Krivax that he was looking at a crucible filled with some kind of… liquid Void.

He was already aware that the Void was nothing good for the vast majority of living creatures, but this was significantly more disturbing than he had expected. Krivax tore his gaze from the grotesque display once the tiny mouths began to scream in incoherent anguish.

Vizier Hadix must have thought that he had seen enough—or maybe it was just too dangerous to continue—because he swiftly telekinetically lifted the mutated lobster out of the crucible and threw it onto the ground. For a moment, the thing seemed as if it were about to start running at them before the Vizier began burning it with a stream of arcane fire until nothing but ash remained.

“What you just witnessed was the effect that concentrated Void energies have on a living creature,” said Vizier Hadix grimly as he ended the stream of fire. “The Void is a malevolent force that seeks to corrupt all living creatures unfortunate enough to enter its grasp. It is the duty of the Order of Kal’tut to prevent the malignant Void from spreading its poisonous influence to nerubian society by any means necessary.”

Krivax gave himself a moment to recover from the very disturbing example of the Void’s corruptive powers, something he was aware of before but was quite another thing entirely to see in person. His mentor said nothing as he composed himself and asked the first question that came to mind.

“I–If that is the goal of the Order, then why is it so secret?” asked Krivax, confused. Considering what he knew already and especially after watching a display like that, he felt like the Void was something that everyone should know about. Who wouldn’t support the suppression of something so obviously evil? “You said that the Order of Kal’tut was a secret organization of Viziers. Why don’t you have any Queen or Spiderlord members in the Order?”

“Good questions, Initiate,” Vizier Hadix said approvingly. “Before I answer them, you must learn about the history of the Order’s creation. The beginning of that story starts with a nerubian by the name of Kal’tut, who was a Vizier that lived during the times of the second Nerubian-Vrykul War.” As he spoke, the Vizier turned and started to make his way to one of the many seemingly identical hallways connected to the room.

Once they entered the hallway, it became immediately obvious to Krivax why this was where the Vizier had chosen to lead him.

All along the walls of the hallway was a colorful, intricately woven mural made from high-grade nerubian silk that depicted what Krivax assumed were historical scenes. The very first scene depicted by the mural was not an army of nerubians doing battle with the vrykul as he had expected, but instead showed the nerubians invading what he was sure was Ulduar.

“Do you remember from your studies how the second Nerubian-Vrykul War began, and the events of the war that preceded it, Initiate?” asked Vizier Hadix.

“Yes, Vizier, it was the second major conflict Azjol-Nerub engaged in with the vrykuls that began when we attempted to invade a ‘place of forbidden knowledge and artifacts,’” said Krivax, repeating what he had read from the Circle’s historical records. “Years after our loss during the first war, High King Anub’Zikith invaded the facility with the intention of acquiring secrets and relics that could aid our people against the vrykul.”

“That is what the records say, but it is not the entire truth,” said Vizier Hadix as he continued walking down the long hallway at a steady pace.

Soon the scene changed to an image of what Krivax recognized to be a portrayal of titan-forged creatures slaughtering the nerubians as they attempted to free an imprisoned Yogg-Saron. Even the simple image of the Old God was disturbing to look upon.

“Most of what the records say is true, but the High King’s motives are different from what you know,” said Vizier Hadix solemnly as he gestured towards the mural. “The facility was more than just a place of forbidden knowledge and artifacts. It was a prison, and the High King invaded that prison with the goal of releasing its only prisoner, one of the Old Gods.”

“Old Gods? The cruel and destructive beings that our people used to worship? I thought they were a myth.” Krivax said, feigning surprise as best he could as he followed behind the Vizier.

“Unfortunately, they are all too real. In the past, worship of these beings pervaded every aspect of our society, and it was one of them who directed the High King to the prison,” said Vizier Hadix.

The murals gradually turned into scenes of the vrykul defeating the nerubians during the second war until they were pushed all the way to the city of Azjol-Nerub. The scenes depicted made it clear that the devastation that the nerubians faced back then was far more significant than what was publicly recorded. The vrykul truly pushed them to the edge of calamity.

“Vizier Kal’tut was a trusted advisor to the High King, and he was forced to watch helplessly as Anub’Zikith was manipulated by the influence of the Old God into making a series of irrational decisions that brought the kingdom to near ruin,” said Vizier Hadix.

Krivax watched with interest as the mural began to show images of a Vizier arguing with a Spiderlord, only to grow increasingly desperate as his advice went unheeded. Soon enough, Krivax was looking at the somber depiction of the Vizier looking miserable as he stood over the corpse of the Spiderlord.

“After losing the second war, Anub’Zikith was overthrown and killed, an event which devastated Vizier Kal’tut. Not only was Kal’tut a trusted advisor to Anub’Zikith, but they were also lifelong friends,” said Vizier Hadix, his tone uncharacteristically sympathetic. “The two of them had been born together, raised together, and had a relationship not unlike the one you share with your Warrior friend.”

Krivax felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Vizier Kal’tut. Just imagining being helpless as the Void twisted Masruk into a creature unlike himself made him feel a sense of overwhelming dread.

“While the kingdom’s new leadership was content to blame Anub’Zikith for the failure of the war, Vizier Kal’tut was wise enough to see where the blame truly laid,” said Vizier Hadix with unusual fervor. “Vizier Kal’tut realized that it would be madness and folly if our people continued to follow the Old Gods’ will, and sought to put an end to it. It would be the work of many millennia, but he and those he taught would see it done.

The mural went on to show a gathering of Viziers working in the shadows, undermining the Old Gods’ influence among the nerubians for thousands of years through countless methods while helping the kingdom rebuild, never showing themselves fully but always acting. Waiting for the perfect chance to fully overthrow their ‘gods,’ they did their best to lead Azjol-Nerub into a more enlightened age where they alone decided their own destiny.

“Kal’tut eventually died, but those he taught continued his work long after his passing,” said Vizier Hadix, his voice becoming increasingly passionate as he told the story. “These enlightened few would build the foundation of the organization that would eventually be known as the Order of Kal’tut.”

“Vizier Hadix, what are those?” asked Krivax, pointing towards a creature on the mural that he did not recognize. They seemed to be some kind of insectoid creatures, yet distinctly different from the nerubians. It was difficult hard to tell for certain, but it looked as if the members of the Order were hiding from them.

“It is not well known now, but prior to the Sundering our kingdom was in contact with two other kingdoms similar to our own,” said Vizier Hadix with distaste after he saw what Krivax was pointing towards. “Ahn’Qiraj and Manti’vess were kingdoms much like our own that also worshiped the Old Gods. Their influence made it much more difficult for the Order to free our people, but fortunately, that changed with the Great Sundering.”

Krivax remembered Ahn’Qiraj and Manti’vess from his metaknowledge, but he had not known that Azjol-Nerub had been in contact with them up until the Sundering. Soon the scenes on the mural changed to a vivid depiction of the Great Sundering, a calamity that shattered the earth and reshaped the world.

Krivax idly mused that the Vizier had a great sense of dramatic timing.

“After Azjol-Nerub lost contact with its sister kingdoms, the Order continued its efforts to free our people from the Old Gods,” said Vizier Hadix. Krivax could tell that the story must be reaching its completion given that they had nearly reached the end of the hallway. “In the immediate chaos of the years following the disaster, the Order struck hard and fast to remove the strongest supporters of the Old Gods and replaced them with their own. It took several more millennia, but we were eventually able to destroy or seal away any sign of the Old Gods, and nearly completely remove all memory of them from our society.

Krivax could feel a growing sense of awe as they reached the end of the mural and stepped through the hallway into the next room, revealing a library significantly larger than the Circle of Viziers back home. Krivax looked upon the rows upon rows of books and the few skitterers that were attending the library, and he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of secrets were contained in such a place.

“The Order has been forced to heavily rewrite Azjol-Nerub’s history in our endless battle to keep our people's fate out of the hands of malicious gods,” said Vizier Hadix with a hint of regret, however his expression soon turned to one of pride. “This library not only holds all of the knowledge that the Order has accumulated since its creation, but it also holds the full and uncensored version of the history of our people.”

Krivax watched for several moments as the Vizier seemed to lose himself to his thoughts while gazing at the library before he decided that he should say something to continue the conversation.

“That's amazing, Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax genuinely. It was good that the Order had made efforts to preserve the history that it was rewriting.

“It is,” said Vizier Hadix, turning his attention back to Krivax. “Even after our success, the Order of Kal’tut has continued to work from the shadows to prevent the Old Gods from ever again gaining control of our people. You asked me why our Order acts in secret and why we recruit only from the Vizier caste I will answer both now that you have an understanding of our history.”

Krivax waited patiently as the Vizier took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering the questions.

“Our decision to act in secret was, at first, a method through which the Order protected itself from the servants of the Old Gods,” said Vizier Hadix. “Once the vast majority of their influence was excised from Azjol-Nerub, we decided to keep our efforts secret due to the subtle and insidious nature of the Void, as well as the speed at which it can spread its corruption. The Order believes that if the Void was publicly known, then there would be many who intentionally seek it out, whether due to curiosity or a simple lust for power. This would allow for Void cults to more easily grow in our society without our knowledge.”

That made some amount of sense to Krivax, he knew from his metaknowledge that the cults of Old Gods could quickly spread out of control given the success of the Twilight’s Hammer. He faintly remembered that there was a bishop or something of the Church of the Holy Light who had been able to hide his ties to the cult and secretly spread its influence throughout Stormwind.

Not only would any aspiring cultists in Azjol-Nerub have difficulty learning how to wield the Void, but they wouldn’t even know that there was an organization dedicated to hunting them.

Krivax still had a few doubts about the necessity, but the Order’s success spoke for itself.

“As for why the Order does not recruit outside of the Vizier caste,” Vizier Hadix continued. “There are a few different reasons, and the first is one of tradition. The Order was formed by the students of Vizier Kal’tut, and that tradition of Viziers recruiting either from their Divisions or from their personal students has continued ever since.”

Krivax did not miss the pointed look that Hadix threw his way, but the Vizier continued without commenting on the obvious implication.

“The second reason is one of practicality. Over its long history, the Order has managed to form its own methods of protecting its members from the Void’s corruption that rely on the active use of arcane magic, something Viziers are best suited to using due to our makeup. Complete protection against the Void is impossible to the best of our knowledge, but as weak as these methods might be, any members of the Order who are not dedicated mages would be significantly more vulnerable to the Void.”

Krivax was not sure that he completely agreed with those justifications. While he understood the power that tradition could hold over an organization as old as the Order, he still felt that the benefit of recruiting the other castes would outweigh the risks.

Vizier Hadix nodded in reluctant agreement when he said as much.

“In truth, I suspect that many of the Order’s leadership are simply reluctant to share the political power they have gathered over the years,” said Vizier Hadix grudgingly. “There exists significant competition between the castes, and while what the Order does for our people is essential, no large organization is infallible.”

Krivax allowed himself to think over that for a moment before he decided to ask the question that had been on his mind since he understood that the Vizier intended to recruit him.

“Why me? Why now?” asked Krivax uncertainly. “Am I not too… ‘young and inexperienced to be recruited to an organization like this? Even if I’m going to become a Vizier soon, I’m still not exactly a powerful mage.”

“Why would the Order only seek to recruit powerful mages?” asked Vizier Hadix, his expression visibly confused. “Many of our most important members are administrators. We choose to recruit after making an evaluation of the Order's needs and the risk that the new member poses to its secrecy. If we only chose to recruit powerful mages, then our options would be vastly more limited.”

Krivax was glad that nerubians could not blush as he pushed down his embarrassment. He had unconsciously associated the Order with the Council of Tirisfal, and assumed that like them they were also composed exclusively of powerful mages. In retrospect, it made sense that they would need members from many different backgrounds if they wanted to accomplish their goals.

“Where do I fall on this evaluation?” asked Krivax.

“At first, I had intended to wait a few decades as there was no particular need to induct you into the Order,” said Vizier Hadix. “However, circumstances have changed with the discovery of the Eastern Kingdoms. The Order needs to search these new lands for the prisons of the other Old Gods, as well as evaluate whatever influence the Void might have over its inhabitants. Given that none of the other members of the expedition are members of the Order your active assistance will significantly ease my efforts.”

“How could I help?” asked Krivax. He couldn’t see how he could do anything that the Vizier wasn’t able to do himself.

“If I wish to properly evaluate the Eastern Kingdoms, then much of my time will need to be spent away from the expedition. Simply assisting me in keeping my movements secret as well as remaining vigilant for the Void will make it much easier for me to accomplish my goals. Connect with the locals as you have done with the tuskarr to see if you cannot gather information from them that I can use while also working towards the betterment of our people. Anything that you can do to help the Order’s overall mission while we are on foreign shores is why it is important that you do not remain ignorant. It is this need which has convinced me to bring you here today.”

“And what about the risk that I pose to the Order's secrecy?” asked Krivax, curious as to how the Vizier had evaluated him on the other metric that the organization used to decide on recruitment.

“By that measurement, you rank poorly,” said Vizier Hadix bluntly. “You lack subtlety and you failed to properly withhold information during your negotiations with the tuskarr. Still, the Order has many methods of keeping its secrets, and the risk you pose is manageable.”

With that said, Vizier Hadix said nothing more and simply waited patiently.

After a few moments, Krivax understood that the Vizier was implicitly asking for his decision on whether or not he would join the Order. The answer seemed like a fairly obvious one, but he still took the time to think over the costs and benefits.

The moment he had been teleported by his mentor to an isolated cavern that belonged to a secret organization, Krivax had been fully prepared to say whatever he needed to say to make it out in one piece. The fact that the secret organization was one that worked to fight against the Void simply made things easier for him. Vizier Hadix had done his best to paint the Order in as benevolent a light as possible, but Krivax was not naive enough to believe that he would like the results if he declined to join the organization

The only reasonable thing to do was to agree to join and hope for the best. After all, if the Order turned out to be an organization he didn’t want to be a part of, he could always figure out a way to leave once it was… safer to do so.

With that decided, Krivax told the Vizier his answer.

“You've made an excellent decision, Initiate Krivax,” said Vizier Hadix, sounding immensely pleased with himself. “Normally I would introduce you to some of the Order’s members, but you have an important day tomorrow. I will teleport you back to Kilah’kuk so that you may inform your friend about your imminent elevation in caste. I am told that the process is a long one. We will have plenty of time to speak later about the Order and your duties as a member.”

Without wasting any time, Vizier Hadix began casting the spell that would take them back to the city. As Krivax disappeared from the ziggurat in a flash of violet light, he couldn’t help but feel nervous for his future.

I’m really starting to feel like I’ve gotten in over my head.

Chapter Text

Krivax was feeling distinctly uncomfortable as he followed behind Vizier Hadix as the two of them made their way through the hallways of the Queen’s ziggurat.

Never before had he seen a place more intensely guarded, not even the underking’s residence; the entire building was covered entirely in Warriors and arachnathids who were watching his every move. There were also many skitterers throughout the building who were constantly carrying food, but Krivax knew that they would not hesitate to turn into a devouring swarm if he was deemed to be a threat to any of the Queens.

Krivax had informed Masruk about his upcoming elevation to the Vizier caste and his friend had been extremely happy for him. He’d tried to ask Vizier Hadix what Masruk would need to do to become a Spiderlord, but the requirements were nothing that could be easily accomplished in the short term, sadly. The Vizier had simply said that Masruk would either need to perform a great service for the kingdom or display such extreme martial skill and leadership ability that those in power would consider it a waste not to raise him up.

Trixie, Malzie, and Oscar had not been happy once they learned that the friendliest nerubian they had met so far would be busy up until the expedition was ready to leave, but they had no other options other than to accept it.

Oscar, at least, was placated after he was handed over a spatial bag filled with a ‘pittance’ to pay for the delegation’s travel fee aboard their ship. The way the merchant’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head was quite hilarious. You just simply didn’t see such reactions in nerubians.

Krivax just hoped that things wouldn’t get too bad between his people and the foreigners while he was gone and that Masruk could smooth things over.

Still, being elevated in caste was a boon that he had hoped for, but not truly expected so soon. Not only would his magical capabilities benefit significantly, but the increase in societal prestige alone would make things much easier for him.

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long for them to reach the room that Queen Mel’ras would be using for his caste elevation.

The first thing that stood out to Krivax as he followed Hadix into the room was the gigantic nerubian eggs that he could see around the edges of the room. He could tell that these eggs were much larger than the one he and his cluster mates had been born from and likely contained nerubians destined for the higher castes.

Krivax was a bit confused about why they would use the same room where they stored eggs in for the caste elevation process, but he wasn’t particularly concerned about it so he put it out of his mind. What was more concerning was the surprisingly large number of eggs that he could see throughout the large room. Krivax didn’t know exactly how many members of the leadership castes were usually produced by Kilah’kuk, but something told him that this was more than what was normal.

“You’re here early,” said Queen Mel’ras impassively as she inspected one of the eggs and pointed lazily to a certain portion of the room that held a circle of arcane glyphs spread across the floor. “Good. We will begin the process as quickly as possible. Go take your place in the ritual circle, Initiate. I'll see to you in a moment.”

Krivax glanced at Vizier Hadix, but his mentor seemed to be unconcerned about the matter so he quickly did as the Queen instructed.

Surprisingly, as Krivax looked down and examined the arcane glyphs of the ritual circle, he could tell that it was actually nothing particularly complicated. Its only real function was to allow liquid to flow into the circle while preventing it from leaving a predetermined perimeter. He was glad to see that there were also portions of the circle that would allow him to breathe despite being submerged in liquid… and concerningly portions that would prevent him from feeling pain.

How exactly does she intend to use this for the elevation process?

Krivax felt like there was no particular harm in asking, so he decided to do just that.

“Queen Mel’ras, what exactly is the process for a caste elevation, if I may ask?” Krivax asked politely.

“The process varies greatly depending upon to which caste the subject is being elevated,” said Queen Mel’ras offhandedly, not even turning to face him. “For an elevation to the Vizier caste, I will first begin by completely submerging you in alchemically modified amniotic fluid before using my magic to convert the outermost portion of the fluid into a substance similar to the one that composes our eggs called ‘Shp’Aqyt.’ The thaumaturgic processes that I will perform after that point are both secret and far too complicated for you to understand.”

Krivax found himself conflicted by the Queen’s description of the process.

On one hand, he wasn’t about to be strapped to a table and treated like the victim of a mad scientist. On the other, he was about to be put back into an egg so that the Queen could completely reshape the body he had spent the past few years getting used to.

Krivax wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

I suppose I know now why they chose this room. It's definitely the most convenient place to store me. I hope they put me to sleep for this. Incubating was boring enough the first time.

“I can see that you have things well in hand, Queen Mel’ras,” said Vizier Hadix. “I will depart and begin making my preparations for my journey to the Eastern Kingdoms. When might I expect the process to be concluded?”

“I will send a messenger to inform you once it is done,” said Queen Mel’ras shortly. “You may leave.”

Vizier Hadix bowed politely to the Queen and made his exit without further comment.

Krivax waited patiently as the Queen finished her business, trying his best to push away his nervousness. Finally, the Queen seemed satisfied with her inspection and she turned her full attention to him as she made her way over to the ritual circle.

Krivax was extremely grateful that he had grown used to nerubian features over the past few years because he would have made a fool of himself as soon as the Queen began to loom over him otherwise. Not only was Queen Mel’ras much larger than him, but her facial features were actually much closer to an actual spider than the facial features of a Spiderlord.

Krivax remained silent as the Queen examined him and made minute alterations to the ritual circle. As far as he could tell, she was adjusting the volume of liquid that the circle could hold, most likely to account for his body mass.

After a few moments, the Queen seemed satisfied and she directed the skitterers who were crawling along her body to bring her one of the nearby eggs.

What is she going to do with that? Krivax wondered as the skitterers placed an egg that was actually larger than he was outside of the ritual circle.

His confusion must have been obvious because Queen Mel’ras seemed to take pity on him and answer his unvoiced question.

“This egg was nonviable,” said Queen Mel’ras dispassionately. “While the experiment that created it proved to be a failure, it can still be useful.”

With surprising speed, Queen Mel’ras tore open the surface of the egg with a swipe of her clawed hand.

Krivax cried out in surprise as a stream of amber-colored liquid poured out of the egg and streamed into the ritual circle. The liquid slowly climbed up an invisible barrier that surrounded the boundary of the circle. Krivax was suddenly very glad that he could not feel the viscous texture of the liquid through his chitin, otherwise this would be much more disgusting than it already was.

Queen Mel’ras ignored him as she waited for the circle to finish being filled and instead turned her attention to removing whatever creature had failed to incubate in the egg.

Whatever the thing was, it was far too malformed for Krivax to have any hope of guessing its intended purpose. All he could tell was that it was extremely large for something that had not even been born yet and that it had far too many limbs.

“A shame,” muttered Queen Mel’ras. “I suppose I’ll just have to try again later.”

Soon enough, Krivax was doing his best not to panic as the viscous amber-colored liquid started to rise above his head. He only started to calm down after it became obvious that the ritual circle was functioning correctly and he was still able to breathe.

“I will now begin introducing the alchemical solution,” said Queen Mel’ras. Krivax was more than a little surprised to find that he could still hear her perfectly through the fluid. “It has many effects, but one of them is to induce the urge to sleep in the subject. I suggest you do not fight it. While the circle will prevent you from feeling pain, the process is not one you wish to be awake for regardless.”

Krivax believed her, so as he felt the urge to sleep grow as a strange silver liquid was gradually poured into the mix by a group of skitterers that had brought over a large basin, he did nothing to fight the urge.

The last thing he heard before darkness overcame him was the Queen's encouraging words.

“Yes, that’s right. Go to sleep and allow me to remake you,” said Queen Mel’ras, sounding pleased. “The next time you open your eyes, you will be reborn anew.”

Trixie Tinkwrench sighed in exasperation as, for the third time in a single day, she watched one of the sailors argue with Captain Prescott about the spiderpeople. It turns out that the human sailors very much did not approve of being forced to sail with giant spider creatures and bring them back to their homes, no matter how much they were being paid to do so.

And having seen the inside of the magic sack that Oscar was so protective of, they were being paid a lot.

I’m not sure why these idiots are arguing. Do they really believe that we have a choice in the matter at this point?

It was rapidly becoming apparent to her that diplomatic relations between the humans and the spiderpeople were not going to be smooth sailing. The human sailors reacted much more negatively to the spider people than her, Malzie, or Oscar did, which wasn’t particularly surprising given they had neither the greed of a merchant nor the curiosity of an explorer.

It didn’t help that most of the spiderpeople that she had met besides Krivax or Masruk were as arrogant and dangerous feeling as elves.

Trixie warily eyed the massive Spiderlord that was currently being tied down to the deck of the ship with nerubian silk. According to Masruk, the Spiderlord was some kind of bigshot by the name of Anub’rekhan that reported directly to their High King.

Apparently, they intended to drug the creature with magical elixirs that would put him to sleep throughout the months-long journey and then weave a cocoon around him. They stated that they were doing it because it would be easier for all involved than an attempt for the massive being to handle the journey the conventional way.

She could sort of understand their perspective given that the massive creature would be barely able to move around on the deck, and there was a risk of him being thrown off during rough seas, or knocking off a sailor, or just plain old getting bored, but it still seemed really weird to her.

It didn’t make very much sense to Trixie, but she was starting to get the sense that the spiderpeople thought much differently than any of the other civilized races that she had met.

What kind of alien mind would agree to something like that?

Trixie shook her head and did her best to put it out of her mind. She was going to make it back home and that was all that mattered.

It didn’t take very long for the sailor to stomp off once he realized that his complaints were not getting him anywhere with the captain. While Captain Prescott was no more tolerant of the spiderpeople than his men, he was intelligent enough to understand that his options were limited and the benefits for following through were significant.

“Will he be a problem?” Trixie asked as she approached the captain.

“Not if he knows what's good for him,” Captain Prescott said tersely. “I’ve got to say, when you lot told me that you were headed off to the spider kingdom to set up some kind of trade deal, I wasn’t expecting this kind of result.”

That’s an understatement.

The initial meeting between the crew and the spiderpeople had been more tense than she would have liked. Fortunately, while there were quite a few spiderpeople sent with the diplomatic delegation, they mostly seemed content to ignore the crew and stay amongst themselves below deck.

“At least House Ashfort should be more than happy once we return,” said Trixie, referring to the cargo hold that was completely filled with valuable trade goods, on top of the ‘minor transportation fee’. The spiderpeople might be as arrogant and scary as elves, but they were also as rich as them too.

“There is that,” Captain Prescott agreed reluctantly. “Still, I’ll be glad once we return to Lordaeron and this becomes somebody else's problem.”

That was something that Trixie could completely agree with.

After a few moments of making meaningless small talk with the captain, Trixie excused herself and began making her way to the front of the ship to find Malzie. It wasn’t very hard to find him given that he seemed to be spending his time watching one of the braver sailors teach one of the spiderpeople how to properly tie the mooring lines. She was pretty sure that she had seen that same spiderperson learning many of the various duties of a sailor.

Trixie could appreciate how eager the spiderpeople seemed to be when it came to learning new skills. The other Vizier that they were sending—who was not quite as scary as Vizier Hadix, thankfully—had even offered Malzie obscene amounts of gold for him to teach the Vizier how to speak the languages of the Eastern Kingdoms. Malzie had turned her down and had instead offered to teach her if she taught him how to speak their language in return.

This didn’t particularly surprise Trixie given that she knew Malzie had a love for learning new languages and that he was fluent in Common, Dwarvish, Gnomish, and had even learned some Thalassian from a half-elf. She could tell that the Vizier had been quite surprised at how quickly Malzie was picking up the language, although the Vizier was learning Common at a rapid rate as well.

While Trixie had mixed feelings about how quickly the spiderpeople were learning, it didn’t stop her from being amused every time she heard the giant spiderperson try to speak Common with a distinctly Dwarvish accent.

“Hey there, big guy,” said Trixie as she approached Malzie. “How’s everything going?”

“It’s going good, lass,” said Malzie cheerfully. “Nobody is dead and we’re set to head on back home today. Plus, I heard something good from Vizier Crinis. According to her, that Krivax fellow should be making his way here soon.”

Trixie perked up at the news. Krivax had been one of the first spiderpeople that she had met and he was much more friendly than the rest of his compatriots. It would be nice to have another spiderperson on the ship aside from Masruk who didn’t blatantly look down on them, figuratively at least since most folk did so literally already.

“Are you sure?” asked Trixie eagerly. “Has he already completed his… ‘elevation process?’”

Krivax had come to them a few hours after the meeting with the spiderpeople leadership had ended in order to explain that he would be busy until shortly before they were scheduled to set sail for the Eastern Kingdoms. Apparently, he would be undergoing some kind of magical ritual that would be turning him into one of the Viziers.

Trixie was a bit dubious given that she had never heard of magic that could permanently change a creature's body to such a drastic degree, but she wasn’t a mage so what did she know?

“Well that’s what the Vizier lady told me,” said Malzie with some uncertainty. “It makes sense though. That lad and his scary Vizier mentor are the only two who we’re still waiting for, after all. The spiderfolk seem like the punctual sort, so I’m sure they’ll be showing up soon.”

Trixie hoped that was the case. She would feel much better after they finally set out to sea.

The two of them spent the next few minutes going over their plans once they returned to the Eastern Kingdoms. They agreed that the first thing they needed to do was make their way to Ironforge’s embassy in Capital City. Telling their people about everything that they had seen during their trip to Northrend would have to be their absolute first priority. Trixie didn’t know how contact with the spider kingdom would impact the Eastern Kingdoms, but she knew enough to understand that the impact would be… more than substantial.

Just as Trixie was starting to worry that the spiderpeople would not be as punctual as her colleague had expected, their conversation was interrupted by a bright violet light suddenly forming on the deck of the ship.

Trixie startled and started reaching for her wrench before she realized that the light was the result of two Viziers suddenly teleporting onto the ship.

While she had a difficult time telling the spiderpeople apart from one another, Trixie recognized one of the Viziers as the intimidating mentor of Krivax by his teal robes and his general aura of danger.

If that one is Hadix, then the other one must be Krivax…

The other Vizier was wearing red robes and was noticeably smaller than the other one. He seemed to be fiddling with his headdress and Trixie could tell from the awkwardness of his movements that he was not particularly graceful. He had a brown carapace, was wearing a set of dark red robes, and looked much the same as every other Vizier that she had seen.

Trixie was not the greatest at distinguishing nerubian features.

Just as Trixie was about to move forward to greet them, she noticed Masruk quickly coming up from below deck and heading straight for the two Viziers.

The shorter, red-robed Vizier seemed to call out excitedly in their spider language as Masruk approached and attempted to move to greet him, only to stumble over his own four feet.

Yeah, that’s definitely Krivax, Trixie thought with no small amount of amusement.

She decided that she would stay out of the way and let the two of them talk. After all, there would be plenty of time for them to chat during the trip.

After their last two passengers arrived, it didn’t take long for Captain Prescott to call for them to set sail. The human sailors had the ship undocked faster than Trixie had ever seen before, likely more than eager to get away from Northrend and return home.

As Trixie watched the sleeping Spiderlord as Moa’ki Harbor vanished over the horizon, she couldn’t help but feel in her gut that the future of the Eastern Kingdoms would soon be changed irrevocably.

Chapter Text

After leaving Northrend’s shores it would be a several month journey back to the Eastern Kingdoms, a journey that the Sea Cutter had made many times before and that her crew was well used to doing at this time… only this time they were carrying some very unusual guests with them in the form of a group of giant spiderpeople known as nerubians.

Naturally, this was something that put most of the sailors on edge.

Thankfully for the most part both groups avoided and stayed out of each other’s way, one due to unease and the other due to not deeming it worth it to interact with the ‘lesser’ group in any way beyond a few individuals. Therefore issues only cropped up on occasion, and thankfully when they did it was up to the most diplomatic of the nerubians to help meditate.

“Just… try not to eat a live seagull in front of the sailors, they find it disturbing when they see you doing that since they are used to eating their food after its well dead,” Krivax, now in a Vizier form, which he was still getting used to, not helped by the ship’s constant rocking, explained to one of the Warriors who had taken to hunting the seabirds in the ship’s riggings to pass the time and to get a free meal.

“I fail to see the issue,” the Warrior defended themselves, idly whipping away some feathers from their mandibles.

“I know, it's odd, but for politeness’ sake while we are on their ship try to respect their wishes,” Krivax asked.

“Hmm, very well. I will be sure to kill the birds before eating them and doing so privately so as to not disturb our hosts too much… despite the fact they don’t seem to mind gutting fish on deck,” the Warrior mumbled the last part as he walked off.

“I just know there's gonna be another complaint of that nature coming up again later,” Krivax sighed as he went to inform the captain about how he addressed the complaint.

Feels like I’ve become an HR manager or something.

---

Life aboard a seagoing ship was something many of the nerubians had to adapt to in their own way as well since it was a very foreign concept to the spiderfolk who had never traveled beyond Northrend’s shores in thousands upon thousands of years, viewing the sea as a deathtrap at best… which even the humans transporting them could not deny for the most part.

It was paradoxically easy and hard to find their sea legs as while their legs allowed them to stay upright easily while the ship moved, sticking to its various surfaces, it did not prevent several nerubians from developing seasickness from the constant rocking of the vessel.

Also, most of the nerubians did not like sleeping within the hold of the ship like the human sailors did, finding the idea of sleeping so close to the water as madness, choosing instead to either sleep on the deck itself in spun cocoons like the slumbering spiderlord, whom the sailors were very happy not to interact with, within the riggings of the ship itself. The latter reminded the nerubians greatly of their great webbed roads in Azjol-Nerub, easily climbing up and down its ropes and even making nests between the masts.

This caused concern among the riggers and the captain for the risk of interfering with their duties, but a surprising answer found itself thanks to the careful meditation of Krivax and the members of the Explorer’s League. Namely, why not let the nerubians handle it?

Not totally of course, but rather teach them the basics on how to handle the rigging and let them do so under the guidance of the human crew. Not only were the nerubians fast learners, but their natural climbing ability allowed them to freely move within the upper parts of the ship without danger. They could act more quickly than the human riggers to the captain’s orders and surprisingly their webbing helped increase the efficiency of the ship’s sails by channeling the wind itself.

So did it become that the captain and sailors very begrudgingly ceded the riggings to the most part to the nerubians, for so long as they pulled their weight they kept their complaints down to a minimum and the spiderfolk could make themselves as comfortable as they could for the long journey.

That and few were brave enough to share their more private and rude thoughts into the faces of the spiderfolk directly.

---

“Not the worst passengers I’ve ever had… but I swear the crew is constantly muttering about mutiny behind my back at all hours,” Captain Preston muttered to himself as he found himself in his captains quarters with Oscar once more.

“They can learn to deal with it,” the merchant scoffed as he happily wrote down in his logbook. “Once we arrive home their share in everything will be enough for most to happily retire if they want.”

“Some things even gold can’t solve,” the captain answered back.

“Then clearly there was not enough gold involved,” Oscar pointed out. “Between the transportation fee, which the nerubians vastly overspent likely to make a point, and the trade goods in the hold, we could beggar some minor noble houses. This is not even mentioning the reward House Ashfort will no doubt give us for carrying a diplomatic envoy and the benefits that will no doubt flow into their coffers from that alone if everyone plays their cards right. This is a massive investment opportunity and I don’t want your men ruining that, Captain.”

“Easier said than done,” he muttered into this drink that he poured from himself.

“Make full use of Krivax and Masruk then, they are very agreeable by their peoples’ standards,” Oscar pointed out.

“Don’t worry, I have,” the captain agreed, finding both much easier to deal with than the rest of the nerubian party. The former being nearly overly friendly while the latter was refreshingly blunt and to the point. “The ‘Viziers’ are too stuck in their studies to care while the rest casually look down on us and only bother to chat when they want something.”

“Well, if their claims of having a kingdom that is older than the high elves are true then that arrogance is only natural,” Oscar shrugged. “Just think of it like dealing with them in spider shape.”

“At this point that might be the most sane idea yet,” the captain chuckled. “Besides, I doubt any of them have the spine to really go against our guests, and our guests have been following the rules for the most part if nothing else.”

“Nerubians very much value rules and order I’ve found, it's a very pleasant aspect of them.”

“Here is hoping it stays that way until we get to port.”

---

The worst issue the nerubians dealt with while at sea was one that was rarely one back home, and that was… boredom. Or rather, a lack of tasks to do for the most part.

The higher castes were either slumbering or working in private, so that left the Weavers, Flyers, and Skitterers with a gulf of free time they weren’t sure what to do with.

The Warriors made due, using their discipline to constantly guard their charges or maintain their bodies, but the rest found a surprising pastime when they were not doing duties for leaders or the ship itself. It was an activity that the newest Vizier in the party had grown to enjoy during his diplomatic ventures, after all, something that had to be taught and how most nerubians did not even have a word for yet, and what better place to do it than in the middle of the sea?

Mainly, fishing!

“The stars are much starker on the open water. I never expected that,” Masruk mused out loud as he, Krivax, and several other nerubians cast their silk lines into the water, trailing behind the ship during the middle of the night.

Indeed, with no clouds in the sky and on a calm sea the celestial bodies were out in full force, something that awed the gathered nerubians the same way it awed Krivax and Masruk not so long ago.

“Indeed, pretty amazing, right?” Kirvax nodded along.

“I think I got something!” The group’s only sapient skitterer spoke up in shock as its line was being pulled taunt, nearly dragging the smaller nerubian off the ship until it stuck itself to the deck. “It's big!”

“Hang on then! Everyone, grab hold, and pull!” Krivax ordered as he, Masruk, Weavers, skitters, flyers, and even a few Warriors grabbed onto the line and slowly pulled their catch in.

Masruk made sure to end the creature swiftly with his spear.

By morning the captain would awake and walk out on the deck to find a shark of all things hanging from the main mask from a silk rope, the sailors gathered around it in awe and the nerubians in what looked like smug pride at their catch, and reacted by simply sighing.

“Well at least the cook will be happy,” he muttered.

---

“From the sounds of it I do hope to visit both your home cities when time permits. They both sound rather amazing,” Krivax said as he and Masruk once more settled down for their usual friendly chats with Trixie and Malzie. It was a rather regular occurrence over the course of the trip given their tight quarters and good relationship compared to the rest of the crew.

“We’ll be sure to give you a tour… so long as we give proper warning first of course,” Trixie laughed awkwardly.

“I would not mind sparring with a few of your warriors though,” Masruk pointed out.

“Hehe, of course, lad, I'm sure more than a few will be happy to trade pointers,” Malzie laughed.

“Good,” the Warrior nodded.

“Still, it might be a while before we can do so since it seems like we will be dealing with the human kingdoms first. Who knows how that will go since if the crew’s reaction is anything to go by our appearance will not be taken in stride at first,” Krivax noted.

“Most likely not, no. Humans… can be a mixed bag at times,” Trixie admitted with a frown. “I can get being afraid of something if it's honestly dangerous… but it seems like some humans can be rather hateful for the dumbest of reasons.”

“That is why you gotta step carefully around them until you get their measure, like feeling out the walls of a mine so you know it won’t collapse on your head if you walk it wrong,” Malzie nodded. “Most humans aren’t so bad though, just rather insulated since they rarely see a friendly non-human face most of the time. Usually they deal with gnolls, trolls, or some other nasty thing after all. Just gotta give them a chance.”

“Here is hoping we make a good first impression then,” Krivax muttered to himself as he got a faraway look in his eyes. “We might really need it…”

“Your mind wanders again,” Masruk said as he broke the silence that followed those words. “Do not worry over what you cannot control, merely what you can.”

“Yes, you’re right again Masruk, thanks for the reminder.” Krivax said with a smile, or what passed as one for a nerubian.

“You’ll have us too, at least for a little while, so try not to worry too much,” Trixie said with a thumbs up and Malzie with a nod. “Gotta see this through to the end after all.”

“Thank you, you two. It's good to know I have friends I can count on.” Krivax simply said.

And so their journey across the sea went, not as one huge epic, but merely a number of small events that while holding no great significance would still remain a part of all involved in some shape, way, or form.

Chapter Text

Nozdormu allowed a sigh to pass through his maw as he sensed Chronormu approaching his lair.

While he was fond of all members of his flight, and Chronormu in particular did good work in her role as an investigator of temporal anomalies, she only ever approached him to speak of matters of importance.

Forcing himself to wake up completely, Nozdormu rose from where he had laid down to sleep and prepared himself for the coming conversation. Ever since the significant change in the future of the timeline that took place several years ago, the Infinite Dragonflight had redoubled their efforts to corrupt the timestream.

Things were beginning to return to normal now that they had realized that the Bronze Dragonflight remained powerful enough to stop them, but that did not change the fact that he had been given little chance to rest over the past few years.

Shaking the sand from his scales, Nozdormu glanced at his lair filled with priceless artifacts that he had collected from throughout the timestream. All of the artifacts had already played their role in history, so collecting them would do no harm to the timestream.

Even he needed a hobby, and collecting artifacts was something that amused him and helped ease the burden on his shoulders.

With a quick application of his magic, Nozdormu transformed into his mortal guise. Where before stood a Dragon, now stood a tall Quel’dorei who possessed wise blue eyes, long brown hair, and was wearing a regal set of bronze-colored robes.

Chronormu seemed to prefer her mortal form, and gnomes were far too small for him to comfortably speak to while wearing his true skin.

Nozdormu did not have to wait very long before a female gnome that looked quite exhausted walked through the entrance to his lair.

“Master Nozdormu,” said Chronormu, offering a respectful bow. “The Infinite Dragonflight have been repelled from their attempts to disrupt Medivh’s opening of the Dark Portal and their attacks on the merchant ship traveling to Northrend have been defeated.”

“Good,” said Nozdormu tiredly. “Hopefully they now realize that the significant shift in the future does not mean that our flight has weakened or that they can attack the timestream unopposed.”

“I hope that is the case, Master Nozdormu,” said Chronormu, sounding equally as exhausted. “Things have been difficult these past few years and a bit of rest would be appreciated. Has there been any progress in discovering the source of the change in the timeline?”

“Some, but not as much as I hoped for,” said Nozdormu, doing his best to suppress his annoyance.

While some members of his flight believed that he knew everything there was to know about what was and will be, Nozdormu knew that was far from the truth.

He was excruciatingly aware that there were many extremely powerful entities throughout the cosmos that had the ability to either deceive him or hide things from his vision. The Old Gods in particular, as sealed as they were, often used their power to disrupt the timeways and hide certain events by making it difficult for him to discern the truth by making false paths seem more real than they should.

There was also the Burning Legion, who possessed powerful Fel magics and existed in the Twisting Nether, a realm through which time passed differently.

Nozdormu knew more about the past and the future than any other being on Azeroth, but he was not a god.

He was not Lord Aman’thul.

Perhaps things would be different after the power that he had imbued into the Dragon Soul was returned to him and he had fully regained the gift that Lord Aman’thul had given him, but for now, he had many powerful rivals.

However, Nozdormu was starting to believe that they were not responsible for the changes in the future as he had initially believed.

He had come to this verdict after concluding that the changes to the future were simply too… favorable to the fate of Azeroth.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that all of the changes were good, but they were certainly preferable to what existed before.

“While I have not been able to discover exactly what influenced one of the nerubians to come into contact with members of the Eastern Kingdoms, I have concluded that neither the Old Gods nor the Burning Legion are likely to be the source,” said Nozdormu solemnly.

For the first few years after the change, he had worried that it was some form of a complicated plot by the Old Gods, but recent investigations had revealed that to be unlikely.

“Really?” Chronormu exclaimed in surprise. “Then what could have possibly caused it?”

“I know not,” said Nozdormu with a hint of worry. “Perhaps I will be able to answer that question in the near future, but my paths for investigation have been exhausted for now.”

While much of the future had changed, the destruction of the Dragon Soul in the near future and the return of his full power were still fated to happen, even if the details of the event had changed.

Nozdormu and Chronormu continued to speak more about the changes to the timeline and the increased activity of the Infinite Dragonflight, but it soon became obvious to him that her concerns had not been fully alleviated.

“What worries you so much, Chronormu?” asked Nozdormu, hoping that he could find a way to ease her worries.

“Nothing, Master Nozdormu. It's just that… you seem to be much less concerned about the changes in the timeline than the rest of our flight,” Chronormu said hesitantly. “Why is that?”

Nozdormu withheld a sigh as he considered how to answer her question. Truthfully, this was not the first time that something unexpected had occurred in the timeline, and he had long since learned to ‘roll with the punches,’ to borrow a human term.

However, there were many in the flight who believed him to be infallible, especially among the younger members, and thought that there was nothing that could escape his sight. He had tried his best to disabuse them of this notion, but it didn’t help that he was vastly more powerful than the majority of his flight.

“Chronormu, time itself is, from a certain perspective, an illusion,” said Nozdormu after he finished organizing his thoughts. “The only true reality is the now, the present moment in which we live. Every past moment is a memory and every future moment is a hope or fear that has not yet manifested. The Bronze Dragonflight is responsible for protecting the timeways from corruption. It is not our responsibility to control the path through which it flows. I will continue to search for the source of these changes, but given that it does not seem to be a result of attempts to corrupt the timeways I do not see a need to be overly concerned.”

Nozdormu waited several moments as Chronormu seemed to process his words.

“I understand, Master Nozdormu,” said Chronormu after a few moments of silence. “I will try my best not to worry too much about this matter.”

“Good,” said Nozdormu approvingly. “Remember, Chronormu, time is a—.”

“Time is a tangled web. Try not to dwell on the loose ends,” said Chronormu with no small amount of exasperation. Nozdormu couldn’t help but smile as he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders. “I must have heard you say that phrase thousands of times since I first heard it as a whelp, Master Nozdormu.”

“I would not need to say it so much if you all listened the first time,” Nozdormu said chidingly.

From there, the conversation went on for a while longer before Chronormu excused herself and began making her way out of his lair, looking noticeably more relieved than when she first entered.

Once she left, Nozdormu shed his mortal skin and returned to where he had been sleeping before, intent on resting while he still had the opportunity.

After all, the future was starting to look busy for him, and he would prefer to get as much rest as he could before his coming confrontation with Neltharion.

“Warchief, I bring you news of Gul’dan,” said Drakk Earthsplitter as he approached Ogrim Doomhammer, leader of the Horde.

The Warchief of the Horde was an impressive figure, larger and more imposing than any other orc that Drakk had seen. Doomhammer was currently sitting in the ruined dining hall of one of the destroyed human kingdom’s nobles, enjoying a feast with many of the orc leaders that made up the Horde.

Stormwind was a hard-won victory, and many orcs were eager to enjoy the spoils of war.

“What is it, Earthsplitter? Has that traitor finally awoken?” asked Ogrim eagerly. Drakk knew that the Warchief was eager for the warlock to awaken so that he could see the look in Gul’dan’s eyes when he learned that the rest of his ‘Shadow Council’ had been destroyed.

“Not yet, Warchief, but the medicine woman says that he will awake soon,” said Drakk.

“Good!” bellowed Hurkan Skullsplinter, Chieftain of the Bonechewer Clan and the only orc Drakk had ever seen approach Ogrim’s size. “Finally that traitor can get what he deserves! I will enjoy watching him die. It will please me nearly as much as enjoying our victory over the humans!”

All the orcs who were not busy stuffing their mouths full of food, and many who were, broke into booming cheers at the Chieftain’s words.

“Earthsplitter! Tell the medicine woman to send for me the moment that Gul’dan is awake,” Ogrim ordered as soon as the cheers subsided.

“Yes, Warchief,” Drakk said obediently.

“Good. Come join our feast,” said Ogrim. “Loyal orcs like you should take the time to enjoy the spoils of war after a difficult victory.”

“Thank you, Warchief, but I wish to return to helping the grunts clear out the city of human survivors,” said Drakk, refusing politely. “The humans are clever, and there are still many who are hiding from my mace.”

“Ha! Fine then,” said Ogrim dismissively. “Enjoy your hunting, Earthsplitter.”

“Thank you, Warchief,” said Drakk as he bowed politely before leaving the way he came.

Drakk calmly made his way through the city, ignoring the sounds of humans being killed and orcs yelling in exhilaration, and started walking down a path that would lead him out of the city.

It did not take very long for him to find himself alone and outside of Stormwind, especially since any orc who attempted to focus on him would immediately find their attention wandering elsewhere.

Soon enough, Drakk found himself secluded in the woods outside of the human city.

After making certain that he was not being observed by any sapient minds, orc, human, or otherwise, Deathwing allowed himself to shed the skin of Drakk Earthsplitter and take on his true form.

Gone was the pitiful mortal form of a nondescript Blackrock orc warrior, and instead stood the towering form of Deathwing the Destroyer, leader of the Black Dragonflight. A large part of him wished to release a bellowing roar after returning to his true form, but Deathwing pushed down the urge so as not to alert the Horde.

Too much of his time had been spent wearing mortal guises as he manipulated the war between the humans and orcs to further the goals of his masters. Now was one of the rare few moments where Deathwing could spread his wings freely while he considered how he intended to move forward, and he was determined to make full use of it.

Fortunately, things were going even better than Deathwing had expected.

Not only had one of the more powerful mortal kingdoms been destroyed, but the Horde had begun to slip away from the control of the Burning Legion after they had culled the majority of their warlocks.

All the better for his own masters to take control in the Burning Legion’s stead.

Deathwing chuffed out a short laugh as recalled how easy it was to prevent the rest of the mortal kingdoms from sending aid to Stormwind. All that he had needed to do was use the power that his masters had gifted him to bend the fragile mortal minds of a select few mortals while wearing his human guise. There had even been many who had been perfectly glad to ignore Stormwind’s increasingly desperate pleas for aid, not needing to be manipulated at all.

Unfortunately, the mortals of Stormwind had proven to be a formidable enemy and had weakened the Horde significantly despite their crushing defeat. After the Horde began marching north and the threat of them became increasingly obvious to the mortals, it would become impossible to stop them from uniting into a force that would overcome even the Horde’s might.

However, now that the orc shaman to whom he had sent visions had gone to the Redridge Mountains with his clan and had succeeded in acquiring the Dragon Soul, all of Deathwing’s plans were beginning to fall into place.

Alexstrasza would almost certainly move to investigate the destruction of the wards that protected the Dragon Soul and the lack of word from its former guardian, that whelp Orastrasz. And by doing so, she would soon fly directly into Deathwing’s trap.

Once Alexstrasza was safely within his grasp and subject to his whims, there would be absolutely nothing that could stop him.

Just as Deathwing was about to lie down in a comfortable position from which he could gleefully enjoy his success and plan for the future, he suddenly felt the presence of his masters pushing into his mind.

Deathwing soon found himself seeing images of what seemed to be a mortal ship approaching what he recognized as the lands belonging to the human kingdom of Lordaeron. Yet, while there were indeed humans on this ship as expected, there were also creatures that he only barely remembered.

Nerubians? Why were the humans willingly carrying servants of my masters to Lordaeron?

Deathwing winced in pain as he was immediately assaulted by the unmitigated wrath of one of his masters, the Old God known as Yogg-Saron.

TRAITORS.

Deathwing could barely contain his shock as he processed what his master had just told him. Traitors? The creatures that had been born from his masters’ very blood had turned against them? Deathwing would have never believed that such a thing was possible if not for the fact that one of his masters had been the one to tell him so.

From the moment that he had given himself to the Old Gods in order to free himself from the burden that had been placed on him by the Titans, Deathwing had known that there was no going back to the way things had been before.

The fact that these insects had betrayed his masters filled Deathwing with a mix of… complicated feelings that he did not wish to examine at this time.

Forcibly pushing those feelings away, Deathwing settled down to ponder what this development meant for his future plans. He had not done any research into how Azjol-Nerub had fared since the War of the Ancients, but their impending contact with the Eastern Kingdoms would doubtlessly change things dramatically… though in what way he was not sure.

There was not much he could do about it for now given that he needed to stay close to the Horde until the orcs had finished learning how to wield the Dragon Soul and succeeded in capturing Alexstrasza, but after that…

The creatures who had betrayed his masters and worked against their goals would need to be dealt with.

Devan Everdawn thanked the grim-faced Quartermaster as he was given his rations for the day, which were mostly just a few biscuits and a bit of fish.

Today was a day of clear weather, so Devan decided to eat his rations on the deck, away from the many sick and injured who were situated below. For a ship that was nearly completely filled with people, things were depressingly silent. Everywhere that Devan went, he could see tear-covered faces and gazes staring off into the abyss. The priests and priestesses of the Church were doing their best to tend to injuries and lift spirits, but they themselves were little better off than those they wished to help.

Devan apologized to one of the guards after accidentally bumping into them, but they paid him no mind at all.

A few months ago he would have been expected to hear the guard yell something like ‘Watch it knife-ear!’ on a good day, but the human didn’t even seem to have enough motivation to give him a dirty look let alone insult him or worse.

Not that he would still expect to be called a ‘knife-ear’ after everything that had happened. People had too much on their minds nowadays to concern themselves with a half-elf, like the fact that a green-skinned horde of monsters had destroyed their whole kingdom and driven those they hadn’t killed into exile.

Devan found himself a comfortable enough position on the deck to sit down and enjoy his meal as much as he could.

Devan had served as a scout in Stormwind’s military since he had been old enough to join. He had fought for his kingdom during both the Gnoll War and the Gurubashi War, but while both the gnolls and trolls had been significant threats to the kingdom, they both paled in comparison to the Horde.

When they had first received reports of large green-skinned creatures raiding the countryside, they had believed that they were being attacked by some new tribe of trolls, like the forest trolls up north. Once they realized that the Horde was a new threat that had never been seen before, they rallied the full strength of their kingdom to face them, certain that their enemies would fall beneath the might of their kingdom.

How wrong they were.

Now they were running north in the hope that the kingdoms there, who were happy to ignore Stormwind’s plight before, would finally offer their aid and stand against the Horde that would no doubt soon turn their eyes north.

Devan could almost feel the cloud of despair that was smothering what remained of the people of Stormwind as they sailed north.

Devan turned his gaze to a certain, heavily guarded portion of the deck.

Anduin Lothar, despite being a legendary figure in the kingdom, was barely distinguishable from any of the other despairing souls sailing away from their ruined home. Both the crown prince and Medivh’s apprentice—who seems to have inexplicably aged several decades since Devan had last seen him several months ago—were not doing much better. All three of them looked as if their worlds had been ripped away from under their feet.

Crown prince Varian was obviously doing his best to put on a brave face, but Devan could easily see that the boy had recently been crying.

He couldn’t exactly blame either of them, the Champion had watched as the kingdom he had sworn to protect burned to the ground and the crown prince had lost both of his parents in a very short amount of time.

There were even rumors that the boy had been there to watch the traitorous orc wench murder his father.

He himself had also lost many of those he held dear to the Horde, and it was only the experiences he had gained living among those who lived such short lives that allowed him to push forward. Half-elves did not live the millennia that pureblooded high elves could, but they still had lifespans that measured in the centuries, of which he was already in his second.

Just as Devan was preparing to head back to his quarters after finishing his rations, his instincts alerted him to strange movements in the corner of his vision. Turning a sharp gaze earned through centuries of being a military scout, Devan immediately picked out what had drawn his attention.

Standing near the entrance that led below deck was a bald old man with clear blue eyes and a pudgy build. Devan felt like he recognized him from somewhere, but was unable to immediately remember where. This, however, was not what had drawn his attention.

What was strange about this man was that he was subtly flashing hand signals that should only be known to members of his scouting party. Devan stared at the features of the old human in an attempt to see if he was a retired veteran, but he came up blank no matter how much he searched his memories. Not only was Devan incredibly good with faces, but he had also personally known every scout who had joined Stormwind’s military for much longer than the old man had been alive.

As soon as Devan stood up to see what the stranger wanted, he quickly moved to head below deck. Devan did not want to cause a disturbance by running after him, and it wasn’t as if the human had anywhere to run, so he simply casually followed the old man down into the ship.

It was not very difficult to follow the human, and Devan soon found himself standing in front of a door to a cabin in a section of the ship that was suspiciously devoid of refugees.

Devan knocked politely on the door, assuming that whoever organized this subterfuge had intentionally brought him here wished to meet with him.

It did not take long for the door to be opened, revealing both the old man who he had been following and a figure he well-recognized. Standing behind a desk filled with documents was an old human woman with a head full of white hair and an appearance that would not stick out in a crowd among the usual crones of the kingdom. The only thing that could be said to be notable about her was the grotesque amount of rings that she wore on each of her fingers, a habit which Devan knew that the woman had possessed since she was young.

With a sigh of exasperation, Devan did not hesitate to walk into the room and close the door behind him.

“Pathonia Shaw, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Devan, already finding himself tired of the conversation before it had even started.

He had been subject to her near constant ‘invitations’ throughout the years, ever since she was a young up and coming knife for hire in the criminal underworld of Stormwind. This was long before the kingdom's leadership moved to organize its criminals into a guild that would secretly work in its service. Devan was honestly scared at the idea of how much the woman could get done if she had his lifespan considering what she had already achieved in her own.

“Everdawn, this is not another attempt to recruit you,” said Pathonia Shaw, uncharacteristically straight to the point. “I brought you here because both I and your kingdom need your help.”

Devan was surprised. He had never known the founder and leader of the Stormwind Assassin’s Guild to miss an opportunity to attempt to recruit him, or clearly state her intentions without first playing mind games.

I suppose not even the Queen of thieves and killers can remain unaffected by what happened, Devan thought with a faint sorrow.

“What is it?” asked Devan. If she was willing to get to the point, then he would at least hear her out.

Only Devan’s sharp eyes allowed him to see the flicker of surprise that flashed across the old woman’s face.

“I have an important mission which needs to be done, but for which I do not have an appropriate agent,” said Pathonia entreatingly.

Devan could see the tension in her frame as she expected the conversation to devolve into an argument, so he instead took a moment to consider her words. He had never approved of the kingdom’s decision to use criminals to do its dirty work, but things were different now.

Still, Devan could not allow his personal feelings on the matter to get in the way if his kingdom truly needed his help. If there was ever a time for the people of Stormwind to come together, then it was surely now.

“Very well,” said Devan. “I will hear you out, though I do not guarantee that I will agree to help you.”

Both Pathonia and the old man who had led him here let out a sigh of relief and lost much of the tension in their bodies.

“Thank you, Everdawn,” said Pathonia, showing him a rare smile. “Before I explain the mission to you, I would first like to give you some information that you may or may not know about what happened in the days leading up to Stormwind’s destruction.”

Devan listened patiently as Pathonia told him about everything that had been happening among Stormwind’s leadership during the later days of the war. Much of what she told him were things that he had already known, but others he had not. Many people knew that the king had been betrayed and killed by the half-orc female that he had kept by his side, but this was the first time that Devan had heard anything about Court Conjurer Medivh.

Though it did make sense why the leadership was not eager to share that information given everyone's already low morale. After she was done telling him about what had happened, Pathonia finally told him the details about the mysterious mission that she wished to send him on.

“You want me to investigate Lordaeron’s nobles and find out why we were not sent aid?” Devan blurted out in surprise.

“That is correct,” said Pathonia solemnly. “The kingdom sent constant pleas for aid for several years to anyone who would listen, but there was not a single kingdom that was willing to help us no matter what we said, not even our closest allies. That isn’t something that can be easily explained by the normal power games that happen between kingdoms.”

“You suspect that our diplomatic efforts were sabotaged?” asked Devan through gritted teeth, fury growing quickly within him until he was feeling a wrath greater than he had ever felt in his long life.

If somebody had prevented Stormwind from receiving aid from the other kingdoms, then they held a massive amount of responsibility for the kingdom’s destruction and all the lives that had been lost.

“I suspect foul play, though I couldn’t tell you why or how,” said Pathonia, her voice colder than he had ever heard before. Devan was not the only one who could benefit from a target for his anger. “However, if there is one thing that I have learned, it is that the consequences of failing to distinguish friend from foe are often catastrophic.”

Devan winced at the venom he could hear in the old woman’s tone, certain that she blamed Lothar for failing to foresee the betrayal of Medivh and Garona. The two of them had always had an antagonist relationship, and Devan was certain that things had not improved now that the Champion was Stormwind’s regent ruler.

“Why not use one of your own agents? Or do this yourself?” Devan asked curiously.

“My agents are either dead or not good enough,” Pathonia said bluntly. “Besides, Lothar does not trust the Assassin’s Guild in the same way that King Llane did. He has already ordered for us to become more integrated into the kingdom’s government. The Assassin’s Guild will soon be reformed into SI:7, a covert organization that answers directly to the throne. Most of my time will be spent grooming my grandson, Mathias, to take over my position.”

Devan was not particularly surprised to hear that. Many in Stormwind’s leadership had long held the opinion that the Assassin’s Guild should be dissolved and its members put under the thumb of its rulers. It was also no secret that Mathias, who had very pointedly been pushed into becoming friends with the crown prince, was being groomed to lead such an organization.

“You are one of the few people outside of my organization who possesses the skills necessary to accomplish this. Something that might be needed if the sabotage came from within and we need to hide our movements from their eyes,” Pathonia continued. Devan could believe that to be true. He had picked up a multitude of useful skills over his long life, after all.

Devan did not have to think very long before nodding his agreement, causing both of the humans to smile in relief.

As he and Pathonia spent the next few hours speaking over the details of the mission and going over which of Lordaeron's nobles he should investigate first, Devan could feel a fiery resolve grow within him.

He had spent his entire life serving his kingdom by finding its enemies, so this was not much different. If there was indeed somebody who was responsible for preventing his kingdom from receiving aid in its time of greatest need, then he would not rest until he found them.

And when he did… they would regret making an enemy of Stormwind.

Chapter Text

Krivax let out a grunt of frustration as he struggled to successfully construct the mental shields that Vizier Hadix claimed were standard learning for members of the Order of Kal’tut. He had learned during the meeting with Azjol-Nerub’s leadership, and Hadix had confirmed, that the Seers were aware of a tide of death approaching their kingdom. Krivax knew that the tide of death referred to the Lich King, but the rest of Azjol-Nerub had no idea what it meant, other than danger in the kingdom’s future.

As a result, Vizier Hadix was insistent on Krivax’s continued study of magic, even while they were going on a diplomatic mission, not that he was complaining.

“Calm yourself,” said Vizier Hadix from the other side of one of the cabins that Vizier Crinis had magically enlarged for them, his tone bored as he casually lounged in a silk hammock and read through some kind of spellbook. “Arcane magic is fundamentally about order. Discipline your thoughts as you cast the spell. It is imperative that you are able to sense any influence the Void might try to impose on your mind.”

Krivax fully understood the Vizier's insistence that he learn to protect his thoughts and shared his concerns, but that did not make learning it any easier.

If he were still in his old body, then there would be little chance that Krivax would be able to cast such esoteric magic at such a young age. Thankfully, it was no exaggeration to say that the transformation to his magical potential had been nearly as drastic as the change in his appearance.

Not only was any magic he cast significantly more powerful, but Krivax found he could cast faster, think clearer, and display a greater degree of control as well.

“Vizier Krivax. Focus,” Hadix said chidingly.

Krivax winced at the rebuke and redirected his attention to casting the spell. This was important and deserved his full and undivided attention. His previous attempts had failed, but he felt like he had learned enough to succeed in casting the spell this time.

Doing his best to keep his thoughts as disciplined and orderly as possible, Krivax pulled on his magic as he imagined constructing a large nerubian-style gate that would keep unwanted influence out of his mind.

Krivax was more than a little surprised when he actually felt the spell successfully click into place.

“Good,” said Hadix approvingly. “Remember that it is not enough to build walls, but you must also place a sentry that will alert you should an outside influence attempt to probe your mind.”

Riding high on his success, Krivax pushed forward as he imagined his mental gate being patrolled by swarms of flyers and skitterers, only to wince at the pain that arrived after the spell backfired.

“Do you understand what you did wrong?” asked Vizier Hadix, turning away from his book so he could point a chastising expression in Krivax’s direction.

“No, Vizier, everything seemed to be going well before the spell suddenly failed,” Krivax grouched as he rubbed his aching head with all four of his hands.

The backlash that came with a failed spell was no joke.

“You attempted to place too many sentries. At your current skill level, you would be better off starting with one. Wait until the backlash fades and then try again.”

“Yes, Vizier.”

Just as Krivax was about to settle down in a comfortable spot as he waited for his headache to pass, the sound of knocking drew his attention to the cabin door.

“I can sense that it is one of the human sailors,” said Vizier Hadix with extreme disinterest. “Go answer the door, Vizier Krivax, before the human shows themselves in and attempts to speak to me.”

“Yes, Vizier,” said Krivax, doing his best to hide his exasperation.

Much of his time since they had set sail from Northrend had been spent handling speaking on behalf of the nerubian delegation to those they did not wish to speak to themselves, which was most of the crew.

Krivax approached the cabin door slowly, paying deliberate attention to his movements.

Although he had mostly gotten used to his new body over the very long trip, he still felt the need to pay attention to his steps at times to compensate for his one less pair of legs.

Krivax let out a huff of annoyance as he was forced to bend down to look through the door as he opened it.

While Vizier Crinis was a genius who specialized in spatial magic, even she was limited in how much she could increase the size of the cabins without investing significant resources. If that weren’t the case, then Anub’rekhan would not have been wrapped in silk and put into a magical sleep.

“Yes? How can I help you?” Krivax asked the human sailor who did not look very comfortable to be speaking with him.

“Yeah, ugh… Th-the Capt’n sent me to let you guys know that we’re about to reach Fairwater Port,” said the sailor whose name Krivax did not know. Despite his attempts over the course of the trip most of the crew still actively avoided interacting with him as much as they did the other nerubians if they could.

A hurdle he was starting to realize might remain a problem once they actually reached the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Alright, thank you for letting us know,” Krivax said simply. It was obvious that the guy really didn’t want to be there so he wouldn’t insist on continuing the conversation.

The sailor simply nodded while showing an expression of relief before quickly leaving.

Krivax didn’t bother to close the door since he and Hadix would be making their way up to the top deck now that they were finally about to reach the Eastern Kingdoms. The delegation had long since decided that there was no point in attempting to keep out of sight while the natives were forewarned about them like Krivax had done the previous times he had met new groups of people.

After all, Spiderlord Anub’rekhan and his cocoon would be visible long before they stepped into town.

By the time Krivax had turned around, Vizier Hadix was already getting down from his hammock and making his way out of the cabin.

“Let us not waste time,” said Hadix. “I’d prefer to spend as little time on this wooden prison as possible.”

The journey had been a long one, and he knew for a fact that Vizier Hadix was not the only one who was feeling cooped up.

Krivax kept his head down as he waddled through the too-small hallways and was unsurprised to discover that the rest of the delegation had beaten them there once they arrived on deck.

Walking past Vizier Crinis, the pair of Weavers, and many uncomfortable humans, Krivax greeted Masruk as he approached the group of Warriors.

“Hey, Masruk,” said Krivax as he looked down toward his friend, still not completely adjusted to his change in height. “You feeling alright?” He knew that his friend had been feeling particularly cooped up and had coped by spending much of his time learning from the Warriors. Still, his options for sparring and training were limited given their lack of space.

“I am feeling better now that we are finally nearing our destination,” Masruk grumbled with no small amount of frustration. “How about you? How has your training been going?”

“Well enough. I’ve nearly managed to learn the spell that Vizier Hadix has been trying to teach me,” said Krivax vaguely. He was obviously not able to tell Masruk about anything related to the Order, but his friend did not seem to feel put out by his vague responses, thankfully.

“Land ahoy!”

Krivax turned his gaze to the front of the ship at the captain’s bellow to see Malzie and Trixie staring at something off in the distance. He had spent a lot of time with both the gnome and the dwarf while learning to speak Common during the long trip.

Krivax was grateful for his newfound mental acuity, otherwise he would not have learned enough Common during the trip to carry a conversation. Although he was still feeling a bit put out over how much quicker Hadix learned Common than he did.

Damned centuries-old wizards and their absurd intelligence.

“Hello, friends!” said Krivax in Common as he approached the two Explorers. Once he got closer he could see that Malzie was using some kind of spyglass and Trixie was fiddling with her goggles. “How are things looking in town?”

“Not well, lad,” said Malzie, his tone grim as he stared off into the distance. “The dock workers have seen you and the rest of the spiderfolk with their own spyglasses. Looks like they’re panicking and guards are forming up around the docks.”

Krivax winced at the news. While that was a potential possibility that they had considered, it was one that he had hoped to avoid. If the humans were panicking, then there was a possibility that they would refuse to allow them to port or even attack them outright. It was a small possibility given that the ship was still being visibly sailed by humans, but Krivax did not trust these people to make rational decisions when a ship covered in unknown giant spider creatures was approaching their town.

“Will you be going ahead with Vizier Hadix?” asked Masruk, referring to the plan that they and the rest of the delegation had come up with when they discussed possible responses to a situation like this one.

Vizier Hadix was the one who was nominally responsible for the actual diplomacy, although Krivax suspected that his mentor had no interest in speaking to ‘primitives’ and intended to leave as much of that work as possible to him.

“Yes, I suppose I will,” Krivax answered reluctantly.

Hadix’s response on what they should do if the humans reacted with hostility before they docked was simply for him, Krivax, and a representative from the ship to teleport ahead and cow them with a round of good Vizier/bad Vizier.

That is to say, Krivax and the representative would be the ones who would actually be diplomatic while Hadix provided the threat of magical violence.

After all, it had not escaped the notice of the Viziers that the humans were even more cautious around them than the other members of the delegation who had not displayed any magical skill. It was confirmed by Trixie that most human mages lived in Dalaran and that the majority of the sailors had likely never even met someone who used magic before.

They had considered many options of who they should bring along, but they eventually settled on Oscar given that he was directly employed by House Ashfort and was well-trusted by them.

“Nobody is going to get hurt, right?” Trixie asked in concern. While she knew Krivax well enough to assume that he would not hurt anyone, she didn’t have as much confidence in Vizier Hadix.

“Of course not,” said Krivax with more confidence than he really felt. Logically, it should be fine given that Hadix was smart enough to understand that harming any of the humans would make their job much harder. Still, he knew that the Vizier placed very little thought into the well-being of humans, so a part of him was still worried.

Resigning himself to his upcoming confrontation with a group of armed and scared people, Krivax went to gather Oscar, who was busy chattering with the captain. After explaining the situation to them, Oscar promptly agreed to follow him and the two of them began making their way over to Hadix and Crinis, who both seemed to be engrossed in some kind of conversation.

Krivax was only able to hear the tail end of what Vizier Crinis was saying once he got closer.

“---mthing very strange about the effect this land has on spatial magic!”

“Could it be due to the leylines?”

“I am unsure. I have done a few calculations and the source of the disruptive emanations is likely coming from somewhere in the southern portion of the continent.”

“Will it prevent us from creating a permanent portal if the leadership decides doing so is in the interests of the kingdom?”

“It's too early to tell.”

“Vizier Hadix, Vizier Crinis, I’m sorry for interrupting, but it seems that the humans in the town ahead have started to panic due to our presence,” said Krivax, knowing from experience that if he did not interrupt that they would simply ignore him and continue speaking as if he wasn’t there.

“Tch. How inconvenient,” said Hadix with a note of irritation. “We will continue this conversation later, Vizier Crinis. I will teleport ahead alongside my student to make certain the humans do not do anything foolish while the ship is approaching. After we dock and Anub’rekhan has been awoken, I doubt that the humans will have enough bravery to threaten us.”

Seeing no reason to wait and not wanting to give the humans more time to prepare, Vizier Hadix placed a hand on the shoulders of both Krivax and Oscar, turned his gaze to the docks, and began casting the short-range teleportation spell.

Come on, Vizier Hadix. At least warn me first!

Krivax grumbled quietly to himself as he was suddenly teleported without warning onto the town of Fairwater’s docks, right in front of a crowd of startled and panicking human guards and a few makeshift militia.

Krivax had not been able to get a good look at the town from the boat given the distance, but he was surprised to find that it was a bit larger than he had been expecting. Unfortunately, he was not given much time to catch his bearings or get a good look at the town in detail before some of the guards decided to immediately open fire on them with a few of their guns, causing Oscar to scream out in fright.

Thankfully, Vizier Hadix had created an arcane barrier around their persons the moment they teleported in and the bullets bounced off harmlessly without leaving a scratch, much to the dismay of the human guards.

“Hmm. Their weapons are a bit stronger than I had expected,” muttered Vizier Hadix with some interest.

Azjol-Nerub had of course learned about guns from Trixie, but it was not easy for them to conceptualize something they had never seen before.

Seeing that Oscar was too frightened about being shot at to take control of the situation, Krivax decided it would be better to get ahead of everything before the situation devolved even more than it had.

“Greetings!” Krivax yelled out in Common as loud so that he could be heard over the clamor. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough to stun the panicking guards and militia, freezing their attempts for a follow-up attack for the moment from shock. “I am Vizier Krivax of Azjol-Nerub! I have been told that the ruler of this town is Lord Uland Ashfort! I would like to speak with you about my people’s presence on the Sea Cutter!”

After he started yelling out in Common, the humans seemed to freeze in astonishment, but once he mentioned the name of the local lord, they all simultaneously turned their gaze to one particular person in the crowd.

Even if that was not enough of a clue, Krivax would have been able to tell that the middle-aged man who was currently mounted on a large war horse and was wearing ornate armor was likely to be Lord Uland Ashfort.

Once he was called out, the noble did not hesitate to move forward to the edge of the arcane barrier and turn a steely gaze to Krivax, not looking at all intimidated by the giant spider wizards in front of him.

“Who and what are you, creature?” said Lord Ashfort. “Why have you come here?”

“As I said, I am Vizier Krivax of Azjol-Nerub, a kingdom native to Northrend. This is Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax as diplomatically as possible, gesturing toward Hadix. “We are nerubians, and our people have sent us to establish diplomatic contact between our kingdom and those of the Eastern Kingdoms.”

Krivax made sure to speak loudly enough for all the nearby humans to hear him, and they all immediately broke out into chatter at his words.

Lord Ashfort seemed stunned at his words and took several moments to contemplate in silence for responding.

“What have you done to the crew of the ship that we sent to Northrend, nerubian? Are they well?” asked Lord Ashfort in a steely tone, turning a gaze to the merchant who was just starting to compose himself. “If you have harmed them, then I swear on the Light that your magic will not stop me from making you regret it.”

Vizier Hadix scoffed in disdain before responding to the human lord with a voice filled with derision.

“Mind your words, human, before I teach you how wrong you are. My magic is not something that your pitiful little militia nor your meager ‘Light’ is capable of overcoming.”

After hearing those words, Lord Ashfort turned a wary eye toward Hadix and many of the humans tensed and tightened their grips on their weapons.

Damn it, Hadix…

Just as Krivax was about to try his best to smooth over the situation, Oscar finally recovered from his fright and stepped forward.

“Lord Ashfort! Please tell your men to stand down. There is truly no need for violence,” Oscar said pleadingly. “The nerubians have not treated us poorly. The crew is safe and they have come here with good intentions.”

Lord Ashfort looked at Oscar with an assessing gaze and was silent for several moments before turning his attention back to Krivax.

“If what you say is true, then I would speak with my retainer in private to verify your claims.”

“Of course,” said Krivax with a note of relief, agreeing immediately. It was a reasonable request, and they truly had nothing to hide… that Oscar knew about anyway.

With a wave of his hand, Vizier Hadix opened up a small hole in the barrier that allowed Oscar to pass through before closing it again immediately afterward, not trusting the local humans not to have itchy trigger fingers.

Krivax watched as the merchant and the Lord walked away from everyone else and began speaking to each other in hushed whispers. The two of them were speaking for quite some time and it seemed like their conversation was progressively devolving into an argument until Oscar opened up his spatial bag and showed its contents to Lord Ashfort.

The human noble seemed stunned but quickly collected himself before restarting their conversation in a more subdued manner.

Eventually, the two of them finished their conversation, and Lord Ashfort walked back over to them.

“We will allow the Sea Cutter to dock, but your… people must stay on the ship until we have finished verifying your story,” Lord Ashfort said reluctantly.

“Thank you, Lord Ashfort,” said Krivax, bowing politely. Hadix simply scoffed before taking down the barrier, although Krivax was not naive enough to believe that the Vizier was not prepared for an attack. “I look forward to building trust between our people and House Ashfort.”

“We shall see, nerubian,” said Lord Ashfort with audible skepticism. “We will continue this conversation in my keep after the ship has docked and the crew has been interviewed. You will remain under armed guard during this process.”

Vizier Hadix let out a huff of annoyance but didn’t say anything to contradict the human’s terms. While the Vizier was more than a little arrogant, he was also intelligent enough to understand when it was best to compromise.

“We understand, Lord Ashfort,” said Krivax politely. “We will remain aboard the ship while you verify our claims. We look forward to continuing this conversation later so that we might reach a greater understanding.”

“Good,” said Lord Ashfort sternly. “I will hold you to that. Now if you would excuse me, I must return to my keep to speak with my advisors about these developments.”

Lord Ashfort turned to one of the men who Krivax assumed to be some kind of commander and instructed them to allow the ship to dock and interview every member of its crew. Once he was done with that, the human lord glanced at them one final time before making his way deeper into the town with Oscar quietly following behind him.

That could have gone better… but I suppose it could have gone worse.

Krivax had already reached the conclusion that the humans would not react well to the nerubians, but that level of hostility was difficult to handle. It would be much more difficult to form a friendly relationship between them and Azjol-Nerub than it was to form one with the tuskarr.

As the guards and militia moved to carry out the orders of Lord Ashfort, while continuing to glance fearfully at the two Viziers, Krivax resigned himself to the fact that this was going to be a much more difficult task than he had hoped.

Chapter Text

Lord Uland Ashfort quietly seethed in anger as he stalked through the hallways of his family’s ancestral manor with his guard captain and the merchant boy following behind him.

When one of his town guards came running into the dining hall yelling about the Sea Cutter sailing toward the town while being covered in strange creatures, Lord Ashfort had not known what to think.

He had promptly sent some guards to take his family somewhere safe and then gathered his men and formed a makeshift militia as quickly as possible, expecting to fight off some kind of invasion, but those expectations proved false.

Instead, he found himself astounded when he learned that the merchant ship he’d sent to Northrend had brought these spider creatures willingly to his shores and that they were some kind of diplomatic delegation!

It certainly didn’t help things that the creatures were from some kind of kingdom of giant spider people, and that they looked like the kind of monsters he would expect to find eating a peasant.

Forcing the monsters to stay on the ship was as much for their benefit as it was for his. There would almost certainly be an uncontrollable panic among the townspeople if those things were to go strolling through the streets.

A part of him wanted to turn around immediately and pull the full story out of the weasely little merchant, but he just knew that this story was one that his advisors would need to hear as well. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for them to reach his council’s meeting room, and Lord Ashfort was pleased to see his advisors already waiting for him.

Father Elric, a white-haired man in his older years of life, immediately ceased the conversation that he was having with House Ashfort’s seneschal, Warren Claridge.

Lord Ashfort stormed into the room without acknowledging the both of them and quickly made his way to take his seat at the end of the long table that sat in the middle of the room. As he sat down, he could see the merchant boy, Oscar, and guard captain, Gunar, follow in behind him and stand behind one of the chairs around the long table, waiting patiently for him to give them permission to sit.

Lord Ashfort glared silently at the merchant for several moments, watching him squirm, before giving everyone permission to sit in their respective seats. Seeing no reason to delay the meeting while his docks were infested with monstrous spider people, Lord Ashfort decided to start speaking immediately after everyone was seated.

“Explain to me now, in detail, what those creatures are and why you decided it would be a good idea to bring them to my lands without permission,” said Lord Ashfort, his voice steely as he directed his question to the merchant.

“Well, you see, it’s a bit of a long story,” Oscar said nervously, cringing back from his gaze.

“Under most circumstances, I would tell you to take a deep breath and take as much time as you need, but I’m afraid these are not most circumstances,” said Father Elric, his voice kind yet firm. “Please explain the situation as best as you are able so that we might make the best decisions we can for the people of Fairwater.”

“Right, of course,” said Oscar, calming down slightly. “Well, I suppose it started when we arrived at Moa’ki Harbor and greeted the tuskarr chieftain…”

What followed was an unbelievable tale that Lord Ashfort would expect to hear from a bard with an overactive imagination.

A giant underground kingdom that spanned half of Northrend? Wealth and resources that rivaled that of Quel'Thalas? Silk strong enough to lift buildings? A race of spiderlike creatures with a variety of different shapes and sizes? Fully trained warriors that were only four years old?

Any one of these things was enough for Lord Ashfort to scoff in disbelief, if not for the fact that he had seen both the creatures and the spatial bag filled to the brim with gold and gems with his own eyes.

First, there are rumors that Stormwind has been destroyed by an army of otherwordly creatures, and now a group of spider monsters have sailed into my port. What is the world coming to?

“This is quite concerning,” said Father Elric. “Especially if the news of Stormwind’s destruction at the hands of unknown creatures proves to be true. These are already chaotic times for the Eastern Kingdoms, even without the introduction of these ‘nerubians.’”

“Stormwind has been destroyed? What happened?!” Oscar said in shock. “I thought they were dealing with a rebellion at most.”

“Bit more than that, and now we are dealing with this,” said Guard Captain Gunar gruffly. “And if these creatures prove to be hostile, we ain’t got anything that can deal with a mage strong enough to flat-out stop a volley of bullets with a wave of his hands.”

Lord Ashfort’s expression darkened at the reminder.

House Ashfort had sent a request to Dalaran through Lordaeron’s House of Lords for a mage to advise them on matters of magic, but they were apparently ‘low priority’ for such things.

Ever since the War of the Seven Thrones that resulted in the official dissolution of the Arathorian Empire and the complete destruction of House Ashfort’s lands, and the fort that was once their namesake, their House had been much diminished. They had tried many times throughout the years to rebuild their House to its former glory, but they had not had much luck.

Lord Ashfort dearly wished that he had someone by his side who could give him council, but the only mage who was affiliated with their House was his second son who was currently studying in Dalaran.

“If Oscar’s claims in regards to the vast wealth of these people are accurate, then this could be a great boon for your House, my lord,” said Warren, his expression thoughtful.

“Trading with the walruspeople is one thing,” said Guard Captain Gunar, a hint of disgust in his tone. “But I ain’t really interested in watching these bug people skitter in and out of town.”

“The Light can be found in all creatures of this world,” said Father Elric reproachingly. “And these people have shown that they are willing to be diplomatic, which is better than the troll-like beings who brought ruin to Stormwind. It would behoove us to treat them with kindness until they prove themselves unworthy of our trust, despite their… unfortunate appearances.”

“If I may,” Oscar said hesitantly, interrupting the discussion. “I should make it clear that their diplomatic delegation has only come here with the intention of establishing diplomatic contact with the Eastern Kingdoms. Their kingdom is quite isolationist and I doubt that they would be willing to agree to any long-term trade agreement until after they meet with House Menethil.”

“Then why should I entertain allowing them to travel freely through my lands?” asked Lord Ashfort irritably. If he couldn’t make some gold by playing nice with the monsters, then why would he risk the safety of his people by letting them off the ship?

“There are a few reasons, my lord, beyond the fact they are already paying us quite the sum in gold and goods just for bringing them here,” said Oscar, sounding more confident now that he was now speaking on more familiar ground. “Firstly, just because they are not willing to sign a trade agreement with us now, does not mean that will always remain the case. It may happen that the relationship between the Crown and Azjol-Nerub develops in a favorable direction, with your name attached due to that success, and if that is the case then both Fairwater and your House will be in an incredibly advantageous position to benefit.”

That was certainly true. House Ashfort was in the best position to benefit from trade with a large kingdom from Northrend given that they already had experience sending ships there. The only other town that might benefit as much was Stratholme and they were located much further away.

“Secondly,” Oscar continued. “The nerubians intend to travel to Capital City as quickly as possible, and have no desire to stay in the town for very long.”

That was a good point as well. The idea of sending the monsters on their way and making them somebody else's problem was an appealing idea.

“And finally,” said the merchant, his tone becoming more hesitant. “I should point out that… I do not believe that you have much choice in the matter, my lord. The nerubian delegation includes multiple powerful mages as well as a powerful being known as a Spiderlord. Having had the opportunity to get to know these people… I do not think they would react well if you attempted to stop them.”

Lord Ashfort bristled at the idea that his lands were too weak to prevent the monsters from doing as they pleased, but he forced down his indignation and accepted the reality of the situation.

He glanced at his Guard Captain, but the man just shook his head indicating that he also thought that they had poor odds.

From there, the meeting mostly resolved around matters of logistics and how they could get the creatures out of their town as quickly as possible. They decided to send one of their fastest riders to Capital City in order to warn the crown about the situation. At the insistence of Father Elric, they even decided to send an escort with them that would act to make certain that nothing unfortunate happened along the way.

It’ll also be wise to make certain that the things don’t go running off into the countryside and start eating peasants, Lord Ashfort thought cynically. I don’t envy House Menethil right now. Things in Capital City are about to reach a boiling point given that the creatures will arrive around the same time that the rulers of the other human kingdoms do.

He was suddenly pulled out of his musings by the sound of someone knocking on the door to the meeting room.

“Enter,” Lord Ashfort called out immediately, worried that the monsters had done something that required his attention.

As soon as he called out, the door opened and one of his guards walked through.

“My Lord! The militia has been thrown into a panic by some kind of massive monster on the ship!”

Massive monster? He must be talking about the so-called ‘Spiderlord.’

Lord Ashfort had looked at the ship through a spyglass and seen some of the monsters infesting it, but he had not gotten a good look at the Spiderlord. According to Oscar, the thing was a confidant of the ruler of their kingdom and had been sleeping in a giant silk cocoon throughout the trip.

Lord Ashfort immediately got up, strode out of the room, and started making his way to the docks with his advisors following close behind him. If something tragic happened because the militia was panicking and they did something stupid, then the consequences for his people could be catastrophic.

When he reached the docks, the first thing he saw was a bunch of panicked men yelling and pointing their weapons toward the docks.

“Calm down you fools! Are you men? Or are you a bunch of cowardly children who lose your discipline the moment you see something that frightens you?!” yelled Lord Ashfort, his voice carrying over the crowd and causing the men to cease their hysteria.

It took several more moments for Lord Ashfort to finish calming down his men, but he eventually managed it and decided to turn his attention to the creature that had caused them to panic. He could immediately understand why the mere sight of the creature, and the thought that they might have to fight it, would strike fear into the heart of men.

Upon the deck of the ship was a massive monster that stood at a height greater than three fully grown men and looked like some kind of disgusting combination of a beetle and a spider.

It possessed a thick scarab-like carapace that was predominantly blue but held a gold color around its edges. Instead of having hands like the others of its kind, the Spiderlord seemed to only have two scythe-shaped arms as if to make clear that the monster's only purpose was the application of violence. It also had a single large horn protruding from its forehead that he was sure was more than capable of skewering a fully grown man, and its four eyes were calmly staring at him with a disturbing amount of intelligence.

“By the Light,” whispered Father Elric in awe.

The rest of his advisors were not doing much better.

Lord Ashfort ruthlessly pushed down the shudder than wanted to flow through his body and wrenched his gaze away from the creature and turned it to the man he had left in charge, demanding a report on what had happened while he was gone.

Apparently, after he had left, the ship had been safely docked and the monsters began freeing the Spiderlord from its cocoon. His men followed his instructions and escorted the ship’s captain and all of the sailors off of the ship and then interrogated them about what happened while they were in Northrend. Their stories were consistent with what Oscar had told him and there was no evidence of any of the men being harmed.

The two members of the Explorer’s League that had paid him to travel along with his ship had been a wealth of information, in particular.

After he was finished receiving the report, Lord Ashfort made his way over to the two spider mages that he had spoken to earlier while deliberately ignoring the gaze of the Spiderlord who turned to follow his movements.

“I have finished consulting with my advisors,” said Lord Ashfort, directing his statement to the one that Oscar had identified as the more friendly of the two. Despite technically being in charge of the delegation’s diplomacy, the one Oscar referred to as Vizier Hadix was apparently not particularly interested in talking to them. “We will finish speaking on this matter at my manor. The rest of your people will continue to remain on the ship until we reach an agreement.”

The two of them immediately broke out into conversation, speaking some kind of strange chittering language. Lord Ashfort was not able to read the expressions of the hideous creatures, but he was certain that he could sense an arrogant disdain radiating from the taller of the two. The Spiderlord also joined the conversation with a voice that sent a wave of dread running down his spine.

Fortunately, the other one was indeed as diplomatic as Oscar had claimed.

“Of course, Lord Ashfort,” said the monster that was named Krivax. “The two of us would be more than willing to discuss this matter with you so that we might reach an accord.”

It’s Common was strangely accented and a bit rough around the edges, but disturbingly good given the amount of time that it had been learning it at sea according to reports.

After giving the creature a stoic nod, Lord Ashfort turned and began leading his council and the two mages back to his manor, painfully aware of the gaze of the Spiderlord on his back the entire time.

Krivax was extremely glad that the ceilings of noble manors in Azeroth were apparently built high enough for him to fit inside, although just barely. He doubted that he would fit inside one of the houses that belonged to the normal townspeople, but it seemed that rich people loving large houses was a multiversal concept.

Though he had been forced to bend down through a few doors. Vizier Hadix simply cast a short ranged teleportation whenever he reached an inconvenient doorway.

They started the meeting through a round of introductions, each of them stating their various positions. Vizier Hadix showed an expression of interest once the kind-looking older man was introduced as a priest of the Church of the Holy Light, but he otherwise seemed bored and indifferent to the humans.

“I have been told by Oscar that you wish to travel to Capital City in order to meet King Terenas, correct?” asked Lord Ashfort as soon as everyone was properly introduced.

“Yes, Lord Ashfort, that is correct,” said Krivax.

In his past life, Lord Ashfort was the kind of man that Krivax would have found intimidating, but it was hard to be afraid of a person when they were just… so much smaller than you.

That and the fact Krivax could throw magic at people now.

“Good, then I will organize some of my men to escort you and your people to Capital City,” Lord Ashfort said decisively.

If Krivax still had eyelids, then he would have blinked in confusion.

Well… that was easy? Maybe Oscar got through to them and they are feeling more friendly toward us, thought Krivax, feeling hopeful.

“That way you can… make due haste through my lands as quickly as possible,” said Lord Ashfort, crushing Krivax’s growing optimism.

Oh…

Vizier Hadix let out a derisive chuckle but otherwise did not comment.

Krivax had hoped to form some kind of friendly relationship with House Ashfort given that their port was one of the most convenient for travel between the Northrend and the Eastern Kingdoms, but he doubted Lord Ashfort was interested in such a thing at this time.

Maybe later when the shock of their sudden arrival wore off he would be more open-minded.

“We understand, Lord Ashfort,” said Krivax politely. “We will leave for Capital City as quickly as circumstances allow. Thank you for allowing us passage through your lands.”

“If I may, I would like to join your escort,” said Father Elric amiably. “I believe I could help smooth over any difficulties in your initial meeting with Capital City’s authorities, and I would enjoy the opportunity to learn more about your people.”

Krivax was a bit surprised by the priest’s offer, but he did not have any problem with it.

“Vizier Hadix, should we take him up on his offer?” asked Krivax while speaking nerubian.

“Yes,” Hadix said immediately. “I would like the opportunity to study the magic that these humans refer to as the ‘Light.’”

“We accept your offer,” said Krivax, earning a smile from the priest.

“Excellent,” said Father Elric warmly. “I look forward to it. I am worried that the guards of Capital City are likely quite on edge given the current circumstances, so I am pleased that I will have the chance to smooth over any ruffled feathers.”

“Current circumstances?” asked Krivax, feeling a sense of foreboding.

“Oh, please excuse me. I forgot that you are new to these lands,” said Father Elric, his tone apologetic. “People are saying that Stormwind, a human kingdom far to the south, has been destroyed by an army of strange creatures and its remaining people fled here to Lordaeron not long ago. King Terenas has called for a meeting with the other human kingdoms to figure out how to respond to such a threat.”

“Oh? How convenient,” said Vizier Hadix, speaking in nerubian. “It significantly will streamline our efforts to have all of the human rulers in one city.”

“Just be sure not to say that in Common where the humans might hear you, Vizier,” Krivax hurriedly pointed out. “They might take offense.”

Vizier Hadix scoffed but did not refute him.

It did not need to be said that they were also ‘strange creatures’ as well and the guards of Capital City would be tense given their state of heightened security due to having so many foreign rulers visiting.

Vizier Hadix suddenly seemed much more interested in the meeting and began asking questions about Stormwind and what they knew about the creatures that had destroyed it.

Krivax tried his best to listen to the conversation, but it was hard when his attention was consumed with the news that he had just heard. Ever since Oscar had told him that King Llane was the current king of Stormwind, he had believed that he would arrive in the Eastern Kingdoms during the First War, but he now knew that the First War had just ended.

Now, the Second War was about to begin, and the Lich King would be created shortly afterward.

Chapter Text

Krivax did his best to ignore the frightened stares of the residents of the human town of ‘Brill’ as the nerubian delegation and their armed and mounted escort made their way through the small human settlement.

Father Elric had indeed saved them all a lot of trouble by moving ahead and warning the locals of their approach. They were still fearful, of course, but the word of a priest of the Church of the Holy Light held great sway over the citizens of Lordaeron.

The priest had saved them a lot of time and trouble, and they were now expecting to reach Capital City by the end of the day. Krivax was a bit surprised by how quickly the trip had gone, but perhaps it only felt that way given that he had been lost in his thoughts through most of it.

Those thoughts mainly revolved around figuring out what the hell he was going to do about the upcoming Second War. Considering that the Alliance was already fated to win the war, there was always the option of just sitting back and allowing things to play out as they did in canon, but there were many problems with remaining uninvolved.

That didn’t even include the fact that the butterfly effect was likely to change things significantly due to their very presence and he had no idea how it could change the results of the conflict. It was a relief to learn that he had a few years that he could use to prepare before the creation of the Lich King, but there were still many dangers that he needed to consider.

Even if Krivax was to ignore the morality of allowing so many people to die when he had the opportunity to make things better, there was also the fact that he wanted the Alliance to retain as much of their strength as possible to confront future crises. Not to mention the fact that Deathwing was currently active during this time period, and that his battle with the Aspects would result in him retreating to Deepholm until he returned in an explosion of power that reshaped the landscape of Azeroth.

If Krivax wanted to avoid the Cataclysm, then Deathwing could not be allowed to survive the events of the Second War as he did in canon.

But that’s easier said than done…

Try as he might, he could not come up with a plan that could guarantee the death of a being as insanely powerful as Deathwing. Despite having written down and doing his best to memorize everything he could remember about Warcraft lore the moment he realized where he was, there were many things about the lore that he simply never learned or could not remember.

He remembered that Deathwing spent much of the Second War sowing chaos while disguised as a human noble, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him what name Deathwing used as a human. Krivax had a good overview of the events of the war, but there were many smaller details that he wished he knew.

And even if he did know about the big events, what would be the best way to go about changing things for the better?

Krivax knew that he wanted to prevent Alexstrasza, Aspect of the Red Dragonflight, from being captured and taken to Grim Batol, but how? He could potentially tell Krasus, who was a member of the Council of Six of Dalaran at this time and also secretly a red dragon, about the threat to his queen, but how would he justify his knowledge?

He doubted that a mage as powerful as Krasus lacked the ability to track him down if he tried something as simple as sending an anonymous letter.

Maybe I could revisit the idea of pretending to be a Seer? Or maybe I could just… tell someone the truth?

Krivax had chosen before not to pretend to be a Seer because he felt like there was a high likelihood that it would backfire on him. He could easily imagine a scenario in which he was sent to train with Azjol-Nerub’s actual Seers and he ended up landing in hot water once he failed to replicate their abilities. After all, his knowledge of the future was static and would grow less and less accurate over time.

But the idea of simply telling someone the truth… or even a modified version of it?

The only person he trusted enough for something like that was Masruk. Krivax knew his friend well enough that he was certain that Masruk would keep his secrets. Unfortunately, his friend was no more able than him to solve Azeroth’s numerous problems.

There was also still a risk of the knowledge being compromised even if Masruk didn’t tell anyone; while mind magic was by no means common, it was not nonexistent either. After joining the Order, Krivax was learning how to protect his mind from both the Void and mind magic, but Masruk did not have such luck.

The members of the delegation who knew sensitive information either possessed an artifact that could shield their minds, or had the ability to do it themselves, but Masruk had neither.

Still, it might be worth the effort to find a solution, even if only to get another perspective. Plus it would be… nice if I could share this with somebody else.

He considered whether or not he was willing to bring this matter up with Hadix—who was fully capable of protecting his own mind—and was surprised to find that the answer was not an immediate ‘no,’ although it was not a yes either. Vizier Hadix was both arrogant and ruthless, but the more Krivax got to know him, the more he believed that the Vizier was genuinely striving for the good of their people… and mainly only their people.

His life would be much easier if he could share what he knew with Vizier Hadix, but he couldn’t help but worry about his reaction.

Krivax pushed away these thoughts and decided to turn his attention back to the present

His thoughts were too chaotic right now, and from what he knew about the timeline he still had some time before he had to make any major decisions.

Lord Ashfort had been true to his word when he said that he would organize an escort to lead the delegation out of his lands as quickly as possible. It was not long before the nerubian delegation, the two members of the Explorer’s League, Father Elric, and a small group of mounted knights provided by House Ashfort, could be seen leaving the town of Fairwater.

While the trip had gone by quickly, it had also been depressingly quiet given that the humans were not interested in speaking to them, and the nerubians in general not being one for small talk.

It didn’t help that Trixie had not taken it well when she learned that Stormwind had been destroyed and that the army of creatures responsible for it would likely soon turn their attention to Khaz Modan. For all that she knew, Gnomergan was already under siege and her family could be in danger while she had no way to help.

Krivax glanced down at Trixie, who was visibly depressed as she walked next to Malzie, before pulling his gaze back up.

Surprisingly, the only people who seemed to actually be interested in making conversation over the past few days were, through a translator, Father Elric and Anub’rekhan.

Krivax glanced at the extremely strange pair as Vizier Crinis translated Father Elric’s words as he explained the philosophies of the Church of the Holy Light to an interested Spiderlord.

Anub’rekhan would interject at times to ask pointed questions about the Church’s history and its relationship with the various human governments, all of which Father Elric was more than happy to answer.

“Have you finally pulled yourself out of your thoughts?” asked Masruk, who was walking by his side.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” said Krivax, feeling embarrassed that he had mostly ignored his friend while thinking about the future. “Sorry about that, Masruk.”

“Good,” said Masruk with a note of relief. “This trip has been dull and these humans are proving far less interesting than the tuskarr. Not a single one of them is willing to spar with me.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I can do to help with that,” said Krivax with a hint of amusement. “We won’t be stopping again until we reach the city, and it’s not as if I can spar with you while we’re moving. Let's hope that there are some people in the city who are willing to offer you your daily dose of violence.”

“Yes, let’s hope,” Masruk agreed immediately before turning to look at Trixie with a worried expression. “The tiny one has not been willing to spar with me either.”

Apparently, Trixie and Masruk had sparred a few times while Krivax had been undergoing the process of becoming a Vizier. He was sad that he had missed the chance to see his friend running around with his spear after being shrunk down by Trixie’s Shrink Ray.

“Yeah, she’s just a bit sad because she’s worried about her family,” said Krivax.

“I don’t understand,” said Masruk, uncomprehendingly. “I have not even thought of the rest of our clustermates since we were designated to our roles.”

“Her relationship with her family is much closer to the relationship between the two of us,” said Krivax, explaining it the only way he knew how. “I would be sad and upset if you were in danger, Masruk, especially if I couldn’t do anything to help you.”

Masruk’s expression became one of contemplation as he thought over what Krivax had just said.

“We should attempt to raise her spirits,” Masruk said decisively. Krivax was a bit surprised at his friend’s words, but he quickly agreed.

“Hello, Trixie, how are you feeling?” Krivax asked with concern after walking over to the gnome and her dwarf companion.

“Hello, tiny one, we are here to lift your spirits,” said Masruk straightforwardly.

Trixie glanced at the two of them but did not show any other outward reaction.

“Unless you can protect my family from the army of monsters that are heading their way, then I doubt there is much you can do to ‘lift my spirits,’” said Trixie, her voice monotone.

Krivax winced at her words. He did remember that the Horde was not successful in their attempts to siege Gnomeregan and Ironforge, but they did still manage to conquer most of Khaz Modan.

“What city does your family live in?” asked Krivax considerately.

“In Gnomeregan, like most gnomes, why?” asked Trixie, tilting her head in confusion.

“How long do you think it took for the monsters to destroy Stormwind?” Krivax continued, trying to lead her to the correct conclusion.

“That merchant boy said he’d been hearing rumors of trouble down there for at least the past few years,” Malzie offered quickly, likely seeing where he was going with his line of questioning. “If it took years for the beasts to beat Stormwind, then they aren’t going to have an easy time taking Ironforge or Gnomeregan.”

“And it’s also likely that Stormwind managed to weaken them significantly,” said Krivax consolingly.

“Do you really think that’s true?” Trixie asked Malzie with a hint of hope in her voice that was previously absent.

“Yeah, lass, I do,” Malzie reassured her. “Remember, I’ve got family in Ironforge too. I wouldn’t give you false hope if I didn’t believe it myself. Even if the beasts manage to take Khaz Modan, they aren’t stepping foot in Ironforge or Gnomeregan anytime soon. I’m sure our people are already hunkering down and getting ready for a fight.”

Trixie seemed to shudder before taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, doing her best to calm herself down.

“You guys are right,” Trixie said firmly. “Gnomeregan isn’t going to go down without a fight. I’m sure my family will be alright until help arrives.”

“That’s the spirit, lass,” said Malzie approvingly. “No sense in worrying ourselves overmuch before we know more.”

“Besides,” said Krivax. “I’m sure the human kingdoms will come together and fight back these creatures given that the kingdom that was destroyed was one of their own.”

Trixie and Malzie glanced at each other with dubious expressions.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Trixie said hesitantly. “Unlike gnomes, humans aren’t exactly the best at getting along with one another.”

“I’m afraid she’s right,” Malzie agreed reluctantly. “In my experience, there’s nothing that a human hates more than other slightly different humans. Not that my people are all that better.”

Krivax already knew that the human kingdoms would eventually come together to form the Alliance, so he was not all that concerned about the matter.

The four of them spent the next hour talking while walking down the path to Capital City about the various human kingdoms and their differences. Krivax noted that the frequency of people traveling on the road being shooed away by either their escorts or Father Elric was steadily increasing as they drew closer to Lordaeron’s capital.

Unfortunately, Krivax was pulled out of the conversation by the sound of someone calling loudly for him in nerubian.

“Vizier Krivax!”

He turned to look at Vizier Crinis who was gesturing for him to approach while walking beside Anub’rekhan and Father Elric. Krivax quickly excused himself and made his way over to the Vizier who was looking thoroughly irritated.

“Yes, Vizier Crinis? How can I help you?” asked Krivax as he approached.

“I am done translating for these two,” Vizier Crinis said adamantly. “Speaking about the Light was perhaps interesting for the first day, but after five days I have long exhausted my interest in the topic. You will take over for me.”

Krivax looked at the Vizier with exasperation before turning his gaze to Anub’rekhan and Father Elric, who were both watching him with expressions of amusement.

“Of course, Vizier Crinis,” said Krivax, resigned to his fate. While he was in the same caste as her, Vizier Crinis was much older and much more powerful than he was so unless Vizier Hadix said otherwise he was expected to naturally defer to her orders, and his mentor didn’t seem to care either way.

“Excellent,” said Vizier Crinis, before hurriedly walking away in the direction of Vizier Hadix.

“Huh. So you’re the hatchling that turned Azjol-Nerub upside down,” Anub’rekhan said with interest as he stared down at Krivax.

“Uh… yes, I suppose that is me, Spiderlord,” said Krivax cautiously. He remembered Anub’rekhan as a creepy raid boss from Warcraft, so he couldn’t help but feel a little wary of him.

It didn’t help that this was their first time actually having an actual conversation given that the Spiderlord had been asleep while on the ship and Krivax had stayed away from him during their journey from Fairwater.

“There’s no need for the formality, little Vizier,” said Anub’rekhan, huffing in amusement. “Just call me Anub’rekhan. I’m not particularly interested in titles or things like that.”

Krivax was staggered by the Spiderlord’s lack of formality. Nerubian culture in general places a high value on certain conventions, such as referring to those above you by their proper titles, so he was more than a little surprised by Anub’rekhan’s relaxed attitude.

It didn’t fit at all what he had expected from him.

Krivax looked at the Spiderlord warily as he tried to think of an appropriate response. However, before he could he was interrupted by Anub’rehkans chittering laugh as his mandibles rapidly clicked together.

“If you have a question for me, then ask, little Vizier,” said Anub’rekhan once he finished laughing.

“Yes, Spiderlord,” Krivax said politely. “It’s just… I’ve never heard of a nerubian as powerful as you being so…”

“Casual?” finished Anub’rekhan as Krivax trailed off.

“Yes, Spide—.” Krivax interrupted himself as the Spiderlord stared pointedly at him. “Yes, Anub’rekhan.”

“The difference between me and every other member of the higher caste that you have met is that I have nothing to prove to anyone,” Anub’rekhan said bluntly. “I have no cities. I hold no political positions. I simply go where my High King tells me to go and do what he tells me to do. Perhaps there are some who would continue to worry about the respect of others in my position, but I have never seen the point.”

I guess it makes sense when he lays it out like that.

“Besides,” continued the Spiderlord. “It’s easier not to care about other people’s opinions when you’re perfectly aware that you can kill everyone around you at any time.”

Ah… that makes even more sense.

“But enough about me, hatchling,” said Anub’rekhan, turning his attention back to the human priest who seemed more than willing to wait patiently as they finished their conversation. “Ask the human why he has been so willing to share information about the ‘Light.’ I could not imagine a Vizier sharing as much about their magic as he has over the past few days.”

Krivax didn’t hesitate to dutifully relay the Spiderlord’s question.

“The Light is not something that should be hoarded and kept secret, as if I were some mage from Dalaran,” said Father Elric, sounding mildly insulted. “The Light belongs to all creatures of this world, and the farther it is spread, the safer we all are under its benevolent protection.”

“Hmm. This Light seems like it would be useful to our kingdom, although it would be a challenge to find those among our people suited to it,” said Anub’rekhan consideringly. “Still, it might be worth the effort if it meant accessing an easy source of healing magic.”

Krivax spent the next few minutes translating between the two of them before the conversation was suddenly interrupted by Anub’rekhan.

“Hmm. Looks like our little watcher is getting ready to leave,” said Anub'rekhan.

Krivax looked around in surprise but failed to see anyone watching them.

“In the sky, hatchling,” said Anub’rekhan while pointing one of his scythe-like arms to a specific portion of the sky. “There is a human watching us from above while riding some manner of winged creature. They were clever enough to paint the creature's armor so that it blends naturally into the sky.”

Krivax looked directly in the direction the Spiderlord was pointing but was only barely able to spot the griffin that was flying away from them. It had blue armor and many of its wings were white, so it was difficult to notice the creature unless he knew what he was looking at.

“How were you able to notice them?” Krivax asked in disbelief.

“Simple. I heard them,” Anub’rekhan said smugly. “My hearing is sensitive enough to pick out a heartbeat from the other side of a ziggurat. They have been watching us for a while and are likely leaving to report to the human leadership now that we are close to the city.”

Krivax was not sure how to respond to that, so he just asked the first question that came to mind.

“Can all Spiderlords hear that well?”

If they could, then Krivax would need to be careful about what he said and where he said it once he returned to Azjol-Nerub.

“No. I am quite special,” said Anub’rekhan, sounding very self-satisfied.

Krivax waited for the strange Spiderlord to continue, but he seemed content to leave it there.

After that, it didn’t take long before they could see Capital City in the distance. The city itself sat on the north shore of Lordamere Lake and seemed to be gleaming in silver and white. The first thing Krivax thought was that the city felt peaceful, yet also powerful.

“Hmm. The humans of these lands are much more advanced than the ones in our lands,” said Anub’rekhan as he assessed the city.

Unfortunately, they did not have long to admire Lordaeron’s capital city before they were approached by what looked to be nearly fifty mounted knights wearing full sets of blue and white armor. Many of the soldiers were fidgeting nervously and were gripping tightly onto their weapons, but each and every one of them held an expression of grim resolve that made it clear that they were willing to die for their kingdom if it became necessary.

“They have even more soldiers prepared nearby,” said Anub’rekhan approvingly. “Smart. They would need them if they wished to face me.”

Father Elric quickly stepped forward to meet the man who seemed to be the leader of the soldiers and began to speak quietly with him. Lordaeron was obviously already aware of their coming given that a messenger had been sent ahead and a gryphon rider had been watching them, but it was still helpful for Father Elric to help calm down their nerves.

Krivax glanced at Vizier Hadix, wondering if his mentor intended to take charge of the diplomacy now that they were about to speak to representatives of the most powerful human kingdom in the Eastern Kingdoms, but the Vizier’s expression remained as uninterested as ever.

Krivax then glanced at Anub’rekhan, but immediately remembered that the Spiderlord could not speak Common.

Krivax didn’t even bother glancing at Vizier Crinis, walking forward while feeling a sense of resignation. Once he was done speaking to Father Elric, the leader of the soldiers directed his horse to step forward so he could address the nerubian delegation. The man wore a crimson cloak over a polished breastplate and had gold traceries in his armor and spoke with a commanding voice.

“I am Captain Falric, leader of the Kingsguard of Lordaeron. When the messenger from House Ashfort told me of your approach I had not believed him. Who here speaks for your delegation.”

A moment of silence passed before Krivax moved forward to speak for the group.

“I do, Captain Falric. I am Vizier Krivax of Azjol-Nerub,” said Krivax. “We have come to your city with hopes of speaking to King Menethil about forming a diplomatic relationship between our kingdoms.”

“Then you’ve either come at the worst or the best time to do so,” Captain Falric said grimly. “For as it stands representatives of all seven human kingdoms are now being hosted in King Menethil’s court, discussing how best to combat the growing danger that is known as the Horde down south that has already destroyed Stormwind. When word first reached us of your arrival, some assumed you to be affiliated with them until it was made clear you were… very different from the creatures that make up the Horde.”

He finished while looking over the nerubian delegation’s various members, all castes represented before him besides a Queen.

“This is our people's first time setting foot on this continent,” said Krivax. “We hold no desire to threaten the people of these lands.”

“I will hold you to that, nerubian,” said Captain Falric, his voice full of steel. “The representatives of the various kingdoms have been informed of your arrival and are prepared to meet you. I will warn you only once, any hostile actions against anyone in this city will be dealt with severely and swiftly.”

With that said, Captain Falric directed his men to surround their delegation, taking over the role of the knights from House Ashfort. Once everyone was in position to separate the delegation from any onlookers, it wasn’t long before the Captain called for them to start moving and the nerubians were taking their first steps through the gates of Capital City.

Chapter Text

King Terenas Menethil II hummed in contemplation as he watched the large scrying mirror as it displayed images of the strange spiderlike creatures currently being escorted through his city from above. The mirror was not as advanced as the scrying tools that Quel’thalas used, having a limited range and requiring the continuous efforts of a mage for it to serve its function, but it was more than enough for the nobles and heads of state currently in his imperial chamber.

When Capital City’s Guard Captain first received news from a minor noble house of strange creatures sailing to the Eastern Kingdoms from Northrend, he had thought it to be absurd and didn’t even bother bringing it to the attention of his superiors. It was only out of a sense of duty and professionalism that the Guard Captain felt compelled to send a Gryphon rider to verify the truth or the falsehood of the matter.

After the scout returned with frantic reports of gigantic spider-like creatures making their way to Capital City, the Guard Captain hurriedly brought the matter to Falric, the young captain of Lordaeron’s Kingsguard, who then brought the matter to Terenas.

He had quickly ordered his Court Conjurors to scry the creatures with their magic and his spymaster to immediately begin gathering as much information as he could before the creatures arrived at Capital City. Fortunately, the original messenger sent by House Ashfort had still not yet left the city and also had a wealth of information to share with them. Lord Ashfort had been wise enough to gather information about the creatures from the crew of the ship that carried them to the Eastern Kingdoms, as well as the individuals who had traveled to their underground kingdom.

After his spymaster finished compiling the information and presented it to Terenas, it quickly became apparent to him that establishing peaceful diplomatic contact with this ‘Azjol-Nerub’ would be one of the most important moments of his kingship.

If the accounts were true, then Azjol-Nerub was easily a kingdom on par with Quel'thalas, and the impact they would have on the Eastern Kingdoms had the potential to be enormous. Not to mention the fact that they could not afford to make such a powerful kingdom their enemy at a time when they were already facing an existential crisis in the form of the Horde.

It was for these reasons and more that Terenas did not hesitate to make his fellow rulers aware of the situation and share all the information that Lordaeron had gathered.

The reactions had been… passionate.

Nobody reacted well after learning that another potential crisis was barreling toward them, and many of the initial proposals on how to deal with the creatures had been overly impulsive.

Terenas was eventually able to make them see that calm and peaceful diplomacy was in their best interests, but nobody was excited about the kingdom of terrifying spiderpeople that threatened to throw the continent’s situation into further chaos.

Terenas turned his gaze away from the mirror, evaluating the expressions and reactions of his fellow rulers who were currently seated along the room in seats that had been verified by a mage to be exactly the same size.

Each of them had enough experience and training in politics to be able to hide their feelings from most observers, but Terenas was an old and experienced king and was more than able to see through their masks.

The first person he looked to was a tall, stoic man dressed in leathers and furs who looked as if he would rather be marching toward a battlefield than attending a diplomatic meeting.

His old friend, King Thoras Trollbane of Stromgarde, was especially easy to read given how well Terenas knew the man. Many dismissed Thoras as a brute due to his gruff exterior and Stromgarde’s martial culture, but Terenas knew well that his friend possessed a sharp mind. While his fellow king was outwardly expressionless, Terenas could tell that Thoras was already considering how best to kill the monstrous twenty-foot-tall spider-beetle creature that was currently being displayed in the scrying mirror.

Thoras was the kind of ruler who would hope to avoid war but believed it to be inevitable and would thus do everything he could to prepare for it. A fact that was consistently proven in his mind by Stromgarde’s constant skirmishes with the forest trolls and Alterac.

Seated next to him was a tall, slender man with weathered skin and wearing a green naval uniform; this man would be recognizable to anybody as Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, ruler of Kul’tiras.

While Admiral Proudmoore was no less disturbed than the rest of them by the existence of the creatures, Terenas could see that the man held much less tension in his shoulders than the rest of them. This did not surprise him; as far as Admiral Proudmoore was concerned, any problem that could be solved by the Kul’tiran navy and its Tidesages was not a problem worth being troubled over.

It was highly unlikely that an underground kingdom like Azjol-Nerub, similarly to the gnomes and dwarfs, possessed any naval power worth noting, and their decision to hire the Sea Cutter to travel to the Eastern Kingdoms supported that assumption.

Unfortunately, the next ruler, a tall and cadaverously thin man with a long gray beard and a bald head covered by a gold-edged skullcap, was much harder to read. Archmage Antonidas, Grand Magus of the Kirin Tor and widely recognized to be one of the most powerful mages alive, was not a king, but he was no less influential than any of the other rulers in the room.

Terenas was well familiar with the man, but he still could not get a good read on what the old mage was thinking. Though given the interested hum the man let out when—for a single terrifying moment—one of the taller robe-wearing creatures turned its gaze upward and seemed to directly look back at them through the mirror, Terenas would assume the man was feeling curious.

Next, seated on the other side of the room, was a large, bearish man with thick features, a heavy black beard, and wearing black and gray armor. Genn Greymane, king of Gilneas, was not a particularly pleasant man, in Terenas’s opinion. He was stubborn, proud, strong-willed, arrogant, and was one of the rulers most resistant to forming an alliance to combat the Horde.

Greymane’s expression was the easiest to read of the gathered rulers, given his poorly concealed revulsion as he stared at the creatures. Terenas had no doubt in his mind that Gilneas would want absolutely nothing to do with Azjol-Nerub, regardless of whether or not their supposedly peaceful intentions were genuine.

The next king, a quiet, cultured-looking man with graying brown hair, was the only other ruler as opposed to forming an alliance as Greymane.

‘I believe this is the first time that I’ve looked at him since this council began that he was not glaring hatefully at Thoras,’ Terenas mused.

King Aiden Perenolde was the ruler of Alterac, a weak landlocked kingdom that found itself in frequent conflict with Stromgarde. Perenolde was doing his best to hide it, but Terenas could tell that the man was extremely interested in the creatures, and would not hesitate to find a way to use them to his advantage as best he could.

The final member of the recently dubbed Council of Seven Nations was a large, stout man, almost bald, who wore a full set of armor and possessed a thick beard and a strong, stern face. Anduin Lothar, Knight Champion and Regent Lord of the destroyed kingdom of Stormwind, was a man who looked as if he had lost everything aside from his life.

When he wasn’t busy giving fiery speeches in an attempt to convince them of the Horde’s threat and the need to unite against them the man barely looked as if he was keeping himself together, and the young black-haired teenager currently sitting by his side did not look much better.

Crown Prince Varian Wrynn had spent the past few days since arriving in Capital City barely looking as if he was aware of where he was. When the boy wasn’t staring off blankly into space, he was swinging between unfathomable sorrow as he struggled not to cry, unbridled wrath whenever they spoke of the Orcs, or, more worryingly, poorly concealed resentment.

Even if his current expression was one of curiosity as he watched the nerubians through the scrying mirror.

It did not take a genius to guess that the child blamed the other human kingdoms for failing to aid Stormwind in their time of greatest need. Terenas had pledged Lordaeron’s forces to the goal of pushing back the Horde and restoring young Wrynn to his kingdom’s throne, but he knew that did little to ease the child’s pain of seeing both his parents killed and his countrymen senselessly slaughtered.

The future king’s resentment was a troubling sign, and bode ill for the future of Stormwind's relationship with the other kingdoms.

Terenas decided to do something about the matter now, while it was still on his mind, and tapped a single finger to his wrist.

Recognizing the nonverbal signal, his spymaster, Tafari Anwir, seamlessly appeared at his side as if he had stepped out of thin air.

A few of the other rulers glanced at him but quickly turned their attention back to the scrying mirror after assessing that there was no threat.

Terenas rubbed his thumb against the enchanted ring which would prevent unwanted listeners from hearing their conversation and leaned over to speak with his spymaster. Not only did the ring prevent eavesdroppers, but it even prevented anyone from reading his lips, allowing Terenas to have private conversations in public settings.

Despite this, Terenas could not quite overcome the instinct to whisper whenever he was giving sensitive instructions to his spymaster while others were around.

“Tafari, after the meeting, arrange for Arthas to meet the young Wrynn and do what you can to foster a friendship between the two of them.”

“The two are already scheduled to meet later this week, Your Majesty,” said Tefari, his tone not expressing any particular opinion on the matter. “Is there a need for me to move it up? And for me to make efforts in ensuring a friendship?”

“Yes, if the two of them have a good relationship, then that would do much to diminish the future risks caused by the boy’s resentment,” Terenas said quietly.

A small part of him felt guilty about manipulating a friendship between his son and a grief-stricken child for political purposes, but there was no such thing as a king who had ruled for as long as he had without being willing to make difficult decisions.

Besides, both of the boys could benefit from having a friend in their lives, so it was beneficial and for the good of everybody.

“I shall entrust the matter to you,” said Terenas. Tafari was a competent man and would know how best to arrange it for the two boys to form a lasting friendship.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Tafari, deferentially.

“Good. While we are speaking on the topic of the boy’s resentment, has there been any progress in that investigation?” asked Terenas, hoping that he would finally have some answers about the source of Lordaeron’s enormous intelligence failure in regard to the Horde.

Despite Tafari's unchanging expression, Terenas could easily hear the annoyance and anger in his spymaster’s tone when he responded.

“No, Your Majesty, there has not,” said Tafari. “We are reasonably certain that someone has been making active efforts over the past few years to spread rumors among the nobility that Stormwind was merely lying about their situation in an attempt to hide internal conflicts. However, we are no closer to finding the source of these rumors, and even Stormwind’s most earnest supporters among the nobility give conflicting descriptions of who they heard them from.”

That was highly concerning to Terenas and implied that there were dangerous forces in Lordaeron working against the kingdom’s interests.

“Are there no indications at all of who might be responsible for this?” asked Terenas.

“No, Your Majesty,” said Tafari, grudgingly. “We have noticed that one of Stormwind’s own intelligence operatives is looking into the matter, but we do not expect them to achieve any more than we have, nor do we expect them to trust us enough to share what they do discover.”

Terenas frowned, saddened by the news, for it was as understandable as it was, he could not help but feel disheartened.

From what his spymaster reported back to him it was only pure desperation that made the Stormwind refugees come to his kingdom, and if they had any other choice they would have gone elsewhere. There were few among them who trusted Lordaeron, or any outsiders, after being seemingly left out in the cold to die and who only now cared since now the Horde was most likely pointed at them. The Prince’s mood was a feeling shared by a vast majority of his people, something that did not bode well for the future in general.

Thank the Light that Sir Lothar still believed in Lordaeron’s honor and, despite everything, Stormwind’s people still trusted their Champion.

Feeling that there was not much else to be said on the topic, Terenas dismissed his spymaster and turned his attention back to the scrying mirror, and the conversation being had about the creatures from Northrend.

“And these creatures just happened to come before us just after the Horde destroyed Stormwind? Just as they are predicted to begin preparing to come north to invade the rest of us?” King Greymane was, unsurprisingly, voicing his suspicions with a sneer.

“Do not let your fear and paranoia make connections that aren’t there, Greymane. Sometimes coincidences do occur, and besides, there is no information to support even the idea that these nerubians and the Horde were even aware of each other until recently,” Archmage Antonidas, ever the bastion of logic and reason, was quick to point out, his tone that of a teacher correcting a student as he continued to study the beings within the scrying mirror.

“From the information made available to us, these nerubians would be formidable enemies,” said Thoras, his tone assessing. “We have a responsibility to our people to prepare for the worst-case scenarios.”

“We also have a responsibility to our people to not ignore such significant opportunities, Trollbane,” said King Perenolde derisively, the name ‘Trollbane’ leaving his mouth as if it were a curse. “How much wealth and resources could we acquire if we manage to establish trading ties with a kingdom as rich as Quel'thalas? Lordaeron, more than any other kingdom here, has grown rich from sharing such close borders with the high elves after all, even while trade remains limited.”

“You would trade with monsters?” said King Greymane, his voice filled with disgust.

“Who cares whether or not they are monsters, as long as they can make my kingdom rich,” said King Perenolde, waving a hand dismissively. “I only barely believe that these so-called ‘orcs’ are the mindless beasts that some claim they are, so you’ll hardly convince me that these nerubians are also unable to be reasoned with. As long as a creature has wants and is capable of reason, then a cultured man can find a way to benefit from them.”

“I grow tired of your continued implications, King Perenolde,” said Lothar, practically growling out the words. “The orcs are savage monsters who cannot be reasoned with, diplomacy with them is utterly impossible, and I will not sit here and listen to you imply that I am a liar.”

“Says the man who trusted one of said orcs, did you not?” King Perenolde pointed out. “Clearly you thought the same, and your error was just not being smart enough to figure out you were being played rather than the other way around.”

The Champion’s expression twisted into one of pain and anger as he slammed his armored hands onto the arm of his chair and rose from his seat, causing many in the room to jump in shock.

“And look what that has cost me!” roared Lothar, his voice filled with rage and sorrow. “Will you see your kingdom burned and your people slaughtered in your foolish quest to avoid a war that is inevitable?!”

Terenas’s heart clenched in sympathy as he watched young Varian struggle to control his expression and hold back tears.

Just as the tension in the room was reaching its peak, a short, stout man with a snow-white beard and a friendly face calmed everyone down as soon as he started speaking.

“Please, everyone, there is no need for us to fight among ourselves when humanity is depending on our cooperation,” said Alonsus Faol, Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Light and likely the most revered human on Azeroth.

While he was no king, he had been allowed to sit in on their discussions as a leader in his own right of one of the largest and most influential organizations in the Eastern Kingdoms. The Church had already done much to tend to the needs of the Stormwind refugees once they made landfall in Lordaeron, and had pledged their considerable resources to help humanity withstand the coming crisis.

The room was quiet for a moment before King Perenolde broke the silence.

“You are correct of course, Archbishop,” King Perenolde said deferentially. “I apologize for my words, Sir Luthor. These are stressful times and I’m afraid I said something inappropriate.”

Luthor stared balefully at King Perenolde for a few more seconds before retaking his seat.

“I’m not sure why you’re all so worried,” said Admiral Proudmoore, speaking into the awkward silence. “If these nerubians reveal themselves to be a threat, then Kul’tiras will ensure that they never again set foot outside of Northrend. They, after all, likely have no navy to speak of and Northrend is not exactly known for its timber.”

“Let us not plan for anything until we at least meet our coming guests,” Terenas spoke up. “If peaceful relations can be established with them then they might even be able to assist in helping us combat the Horde.”

“Not that we’ve even established if Gilneas even wants part in this mad idea,” King Greymane growled, causing King Perenolde to nod to himself in agreement while the rest of the kings glared daggers at the only holdouts.

“They have nearly arrived,” Archmage Antonidas noted calmly.

Everyone turned their attention back to the scrying mirror to see that the nerubian delegation had reached the entrance to the royal palace. The creatures seemed to have paused, as while his palace was built more than large enough to accommodate the majority of the nerubians, the largest one was a tad too large to fit through the entranceway.

For some reason, they seemed to be arguing with the female gnome from the Explorer’s League as she pointed to some kind of device strapped to her side…

While the palace was enormous by human standards, House Menethil had not exactly built their palace with the assumption that they would be hosting such massive creatures, after all. Something like this would normally be an annoying problem that would have likely resulted in them being forced to bring the meeting elsewhere, but that was not the case when one had the aid of the Dalaran’s Grand Magus.

Terenas watched as the Archmage rose from his seat, gripped his ornate wooden staff, and cast a spell that’s effect emanated from the imperial chamber to the entrance of the palace. Terenas watched in wonder as space twisted and expanded until the entrance, and presumably the hallways, was large enough to accommodate the giant creature. It was something the nerubians were quick to notice and, based on what little they could tell from their body language, looked quite surprised before they proceeded.

None of the other rulers were mages, but they all knew enough about magic to be filled with awe at the Archmage’s display of magical might.

“A very effective show of force, Archmage,” said King Perenolde after taking a moment to compose himself. “I’m sure that will do much to dissuade the nerubians from taking any hostile actions.”

For the first time, Terenas agreed with the opportunistic man.

The room quieted down as a servant moved to take the scrying mirror out of the imperial chambers, and the rulers waited for the nerubians to arrive.

It did not take very long before four of the creatures were walking into the imperial chamber—Terenas assumed the rest were not essential for diplomacy and were made to wait in the hall outside–-and the various rulers of the Eastern Kingdoms were taking their first look at the nerubians in person.

All three of the robed nerubians along with the one that was too large to enter the imperial chamber under normal circumstances were much more terrifying up close.

It was immediately apparent to everyone that the scrying mirror did not do them proper justice.

Terenas turned his attention to the tall, four-armed and four-legged, robed nerubians, who were apparently referred to as ‘Viziers’ according to the information provided by the messenger. They were the ones that were supposedly in charge of the delegation, so he would address them when he spoke.

Fortunately, Archmage Antonidas had already used his magic to ensure that any words said in the imperial chambers would be translated to everyone else.

“Welcome to Lordaeron,” said Terenas before introducing himself and then each of the important figures in the room with him, then moving to ask the question that was on everybody’s mind.

“We have been told that you come to us as representatives of a previously unknown kingdom of Northrend, referred to as Azjol-Nerub,” said Terenas, regally. “And that you seek to establish peaceful diplomatic ties with the kingdoms of this continent. Is that true?”

After a moment of silence, the smallest of the so-called Viziers stepped forward to speak.

“That is indeed the case, King Menethil,” the creature said politely. “I am Vizier Krivax. With me are Vizier Hadix, Vizier Crinis, and Spiderlord Anub’rekhan.” The Vizier gestured to each of the apparent leaders of the delegation as he introduced them.

“We come with peaceful intentions and hopes that a diplomatic connection between our people will allow for us to learn more of one another,” said Vizier Krivax. “And that we might find areas of cooperation from which we could mutually benefit.”

“Why have we never heard of you before?” asked King Greymane, not bothering to hide his suspicion. “Seems like an awfully strange coincidence that you all arrive at the same time that we’re facing an army of monsters from the south.”

“I assure you, King Greymane, this is indeed merely a coincidence,” said Vizier Krivax quickly. “Until recently, Azjol-Nerub was not aware that there were any lands outside of Northrend that survived the Great Sundering. After realizing this was not the case, a diplomatic delegation was organized that would be sent to learn more about the Eastern Kingdoms.”

King Greymane’s expression was one of obvious skepticism, but he did not speak further.

“Do you intend to establish a settlement on this continent?” asked King Trollbane, his eyes assessing as he stared at the Vizier.

“We currently have no such intentions, King Trollbane,” said Vizier Hadix. “If that changes, then we will, of course, discuss the matter with the people of these lands first.”

“Are you hoping to establish some manner of a trade agreement?” asked King Perenolde, cutting off Thoras from asking any follow-up questions. “According to House Ashfort, your people’s silk is of the highest quality and holds valuable magical properties. I’m sure we could reach some manner of understanding if you are willing to trade such materials.”

Vizier Krivax seemed to hesitate before he next spoke.

“The purpose of this delegation is for us to establish diplomatic contact and for our people to learn more about each other,” said Vizier Krivax. “Any future decisions beyond must first undergo the thorough consideration of our kingdom's leaders.”

Terenas had spoken to enough elvish diplomats to know that the Vizier’s words did not paint a good picture of Azjol-Nerub’s interest in establishing a trade deal.

Looking at King Perenolde’s expression, he had also reached the same conclusion.

“I’m sure that we have any number of materials that your leaders might be interested in,” said King Perenolde, attempting to persuade the foreign diplomats. “The Eastern Kingdoms are a big place, after all. There must be something here that your people would find valuable.”

“Azjol-Nerub does not want for material objects, human,” spoke the massive creature that had been introduced as Anub’rekhan. Its voice was deep, and Terenas could hear the disturbing sounds of harsh buzzing and clicking sounds through the translation spell. “Anything this continent has to offer us will come in the form of knowledge, such as the opportunity to learn more of your so-called ‘Light.’”

Archbishop Faol sat up in his seat and a gentle smile spread across his face.

“Your people are not familiar with the Light? And you are interested in learning more?”

“Yes. It seems like a useful form of magic,” said Anub’rekhan, his tone one of interest. “Azjol-Nerub would benefit from access to magic so well suited to healing wounds.”

“The Holy Light is not a mere tool,” Archbishop Faol said disapprovingly. “If you treat it in such a way, it will never answer your call. But the Church is always willing to spread its knowledge to those who are willing to learn.”

Terenas listened as the discussion continued on like that for some time, each of the rulers questioning the nerubians about their intentions. As he was listening to Perenolde once again try to convince the nerubians to trade with his kingdom, Terenas noticed Archmage Antonidas having a staring match with the one called Vizier Hadix.

If he was remembering correctly, that was the same Vizier that had seemed to notice their scrying.

Vizier Crinis, meanwhile, was ignoring the conversation completely and was instead busy studying the imperial chamber’s magically expanded entrance.

Ironically, the displays served to reassure Terenas; if the mages of these strange spider people were as arrogant and competitive as human mages, then could these nerubians really be so different?

“Does your interest in knowledge extend to more conventional magic?” Archmage Antonidas asked slyly. “Perhaps you would be interested in coming to Dalaran, where we could compare our understanding of the arcane.”

“I suppose we could take the time to inspect your city,” said Vizier Hadix, haughtily. “It should be an amusing diversion if nothing else.”

“If I might interrupt, I do not believe this is a discussion that can be finished in a single day,” said Terenas, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. “And it would be unkind to keep the rest of your delegation waiting out in the hall. I propose that we see to your accommodations, and then continue this discussion tomorrow. My Majordomo has prepared suitable arrangements for you all to stay in the palace.”

Terenas had not liked the idea at first, who would want such strange and potentially dangerous creatures near their family, but Captain Falric had quickly convinced him that this was the best course of action.

Due to the ongoing Council of Seven Nations, the palace was likely the safest and most heavily guarded location in the Eastern Kingdoms outside of Quel'thalas itself. Security was at its maximum, and every single inch of the palace was covered by powerful wards and hidden guards vigilantly watching everyone walking in and out of the building.

Not to mention the fact that each of the kings had brought their kingdom’s most powerful mages and warriors to accompany them.

If the nerubians were able to successfully commit hostile actions in such an environment, then there was little that they could do to stop them anyway.

The nerubian delegation and the various rulers quickly agreed to his proposal, everyone notably tired from the long and eventful day. House Menethil’s Majordomo quickly moved to show the nerubians to their accommodations, his mask of professionalism not breaking for a moment as he escorted the terrifying creatures. Most of the nerubians would be given lodgings in the same wing as the rest of the foreign diplomats, but the Spiderlord would need to be given accommodations outside of the palace.

Terenas sighed in relief as he gave his farewells to the last of the important figures, and began making his way to his private chambers alongside his personal guards. Today was a long day, and Terenas was reaching an age where he savored the opportunity to rest whenever he could.

Unfortunately, he had a feeling that such opportunities would grow more and more rare in the near future.

Chapter Text

Krivax unfurled the selectively edited map of Northrend that Azjol-Nerub had provided the delegation to present to people of the Eastern Kingdoms. Immediately, several scholars from the various kingdoms were taking in the map with hungry expressions, eager to learn more about the parts of Northrend that they had not been able to explore. Krivax stepped back to allow them time to inspect the map and prepared himself to answer their questions.

The past few weeks had been… hectic for Krivax, especially since he was effectively left as the one in charge of the delegation’s day-to-day diplomacy.

Anub’rekhan spent most of his time recently doing his best to learn about a variety of subjects that could be important to Azjol-Nerub from a military perspective, such as guns, the Eastern Kingdom’s history in relation to war, and the Light.

There was no shortage of curiosity and interest about the Light from Hadix, Crinis, and Anub’rekhan, although both of the Viziers seemed content to leave the investigation into the new form of magic in the Spiderlord’s hands while they handled their own priorities. Obviously, Krivax fully expected Hadix to take a much greater personal interest in the Light after he eventually learned the effect it had on the Void.

Vizier Crinis had immediately run off to consult with Lordaeron’s mages in regard to the strange disturbances that were making it more difficult to cast spatial magic in the Eastern Kingdoms than in Northrend. Apparently, when the Dark Portal was first opened, every creature in the Eastern Kingdoms that was attuned to magic felt ripples coming from the portal, though nobody was really able to detect the source. It was only after Stormwind’s refugees arrived in Lordaeron that everyone finally had a full picture of what was going on.

One of the Weavers sent by En’kilah was busy evaluating the various materials native to the Eastern Kingdoms that were not available on Northrend. While the leadership of Azjol-Nerub had not yet officially decided to establish a trade agreement with the governments of the Eastern Kingdoms, discussions were supposedly trending in that direction and they wanted to be prepared.

The other Weaver had been delegated to assist Trixie, Malzie, and a Lordaeranian scholar in the creation of a Nerubian to Common dictionary.

Masruk, predictably, was learning as much as he could about the Eastern Kingdoms fighting styles, and occasionally sparring with whoever was willing to fight him.

Vizier Hadix had stuck around for a while but had soon snuck away to begin his investigations into the Void’s influence in the Eastern Kingdoms. There was a limit to how much Hadix could do while they were under such heavy surveillance, but this was only his initial investigation.

As a result, Krivax was left as the guy that the various kingdoms went to first when they wanted something from the delegation.

He had expressed his worries about being left unsupervised with such responsibilities to Hadix, but the older Vizier had simply said, ‘Don’t share secrets. Don’t promise anything. Don’t get us banished from the city. Don’t bother me if it’s not important.’

It didn’t help that the things that Krivax wasn’t to do the most—such as negotiating trade deals or convincing the nerubians to help fight the Horde—were not currently feasible due to issues on both sides.

There was also the fact that the rulers of the human kingdoms were dedicating the majority of their attention to the Council of Seven Nations.

Therefore, the various members of the delegation were putting most of their efforts into gathering more information about the Eastern Kingdoms.

Of course, the governments of the Eastern Kingdoms were not foolish enough to simply hand out all of this information without receiving anything in return, which was why he was now sharing an edited map of Northrend.

Krivax turned his attention back to the present as he was pulled out of his thoughts by an excited voice, “Vizier Krivax, is this truly accurate?”

One of the scholars was pointing to a portion of Dragonblight that had been circled in red to signify it as an area that was considered extremely dangerous. An accompanying document that explained the danger of each of these areas had been translated into Common and laid out next to the map.

“Yes, that is one of the specific areas that dragons frequent to the best of our knowledge,” Kirvax confirmed to the excitement of the scholars.

The people of the Eastern Kingdoms had already known that dragons frequently traveled to Northrend due to many recorded sightings and the numerous dragon bones found in the area.

However, it was not easy for them to actually confirm exactly where they traveled due to the extreme difficulty of exploring the frozen continent. Not only was Northrend much larger and more dangerous than what was depicted in the game, but there were also no convenient roads or paths that led people to where they wanted to go… above ground at least.

It certainly didn’t help that Wyrmrest Temple and the various Dragonshrines were all warded against non-dragon visitors.

“And these, Vizier Krivax?”

Krivax held back a wince after he looked over to see the scholar pointing at the portions of the map that were circled in black.

“Those are areas on the surface which Azjol-Nerub forbids outsiders from entering,” Krivax said reluctantly. “Anyone who enters these areas will be killed without warning.”

“But why? I thought your people’s kingdom was entirely below ground.”

“We are, aside from certain portions of En’kilah,” said Krivax. “Azjol-Nerub will offer a more detailed explanation of these regions at a later time.”

The scholars looked to one another with unwilling expressions, but none of them chose to push the issue.

The majority of those forbidden places were areas with large concentrations of sleeping vrykul. There had been a vocal minority among Azjol-Nerub’s leadership that had been opposed to sharing information about the vrykuls with the humans out of fear that the humans could intentionally seek to awaken them. The majority, however, was not very worried about this for a number of reasons.

Aside from the fact that before they went to sleep, the majority of vrykul had a policy of systematically killing humans, there was also the fact that actually awakening the vrykul was not exactly a simple endeavor. After all, if the vrykul were not awakened by the Great Sundering, then it was probably next to impossible to awaken them accidentally.

The places where they slept, such as Gjalerbron, were all protected by powerful magical defenses.

Still, there were a few nerubians who were worried due to humanity's status as descendants of the vrykul, so the leadership decided on a compromise. These areas would be further fortified by Azjol-Nerub so that none could enter. Only after this fortification was complete would Krivax be allowed to share information about them.

Azjol-Nerub had never considered the possibility of not telling them at all due to the fact that it was fairly well-known information in the kingdom… and because Krivax and Masruk had already shared stories about the vrykul with the tuskarr.

Krivax was sure there would be an explosion in the number of humans traveling to Northrend to learn more about their ancestral history after the war.

Krivax spent the next hour sharing what information he was allowed with the excited scholars. They had started out visibly nervous to be standing in the same room as a giant spider mage who towered over them, but they gradually relaxed as the conversation went on.

Unfortunately, the discussion was very suddenly interrupted by a servant hurriedly striding into the room.

“Pardon my interruption, but I’m afraid there’s a situation in the hallway outside of the kitchen that requires your attention, Vizier Krivax.”

Krivax released a put-upon sigh before turning to address the anxious servant, “And what exactly is the situation that requires my attention?”

“It seems that a noblewoman has fainted after seeing one of your… countrymen eating a rat in the middle of the hallway,” said the servant, sounding more than a little baffled.

I told them specifically not to do that!

Krivax quickly excused himself and started making his way to the hallway outside of the kitchen. One of the most frustrating parts of his job was mediating the frequent incidents caused by… cultural differences. Especially when he’d specifically already told everyone in the delegation not to eat random wildlife in front of the humans!

After the incident with the sailors of the Sea Cutter complaining about the nerubians catching and eating birds in front of them, Krivax made sure to talk to everyone about it. He really didn’t want to end up dealing with the amount of trouble that would come if someone decided to eat an Archmage’s favorite cat!

Krivax ignored the guards that were following behind him, he had already grown used to them following him everywhere he went in the palace.

It didn’t take him very long before he reached the correct hallway where he found himself looking at a group of disgusted servants watching a skitterer calmly chewing on a rat while a few guards hovered over a noblewoman laying passed out on the ground.

Krivax quickly apologized to the servants for the disturbance before pulling the skitterer away to the room that had been designated for him and the other Viziers. He was feeling pretty annoyed right now with the skitterer; it would be more understandable if this was one of the delegation’s nonsapient ones, but this one was definitely sapient and should have known better.

As soon as they were alone, Krivax turned on the skitterer and immediately began interrogating them.

“What were you thinking, Tizit?” asked Krivax, his tone one of extreme frustration. “I told everyone specifically not to go around eating the local wildlife. Why would you do exactly what I told you not to do?”

“I fail to see what I did wrong,” said Swarm Leader Tizit. “I was removing vermin that was in close proximity to the food storage stockpile.”

“I already explained to you that doing it makes the humans uncomfortable,” said Krivax. “Why would you think that was acceptable?”

Tizit shuffled nervously for a moment before responding.

“I thought you were mistaken,” Tizit said reluctantly. “I saw that the humans have small domesticated creatures that do the same task. They even reward and congratulate them when they bring them their catches. I was attempting to be a good guest.”

Krivax’s annoyance fizzled out after hearing that explanation, and he simply buried his face in one of his four palms and let out a bone-weary sigh.

“I understand that you had good intentions, but that is not how the humans think,” explained Krivax with as much patience as he could muster.

Krivax spent the next few minutes explaining to Tizit why humans felt differently when they saw a harmless pet catching and eating a rat compared to when they saw him doing the same thing. It didn’t really seem like he understood, but he still reluctantly accepted that he couldn’t eat the local wildlife, especially in front of the locals themselves, and Krivax eventually sent him away.

He was almost tempted to send Tizit to apologize to the noblewoman, but he had a feeling that the woman would just end up fainting again.

Seeing that he finally had some time to himself, Krivax decided to go over to the web hammock that he’d spun in the corner of the room and lay down. He needed to take every opportunity he could to relax while there was not any crisis or any kind of important meeting that required his attention.

Instead of relaxing, however, Krivax couldn’t help but turn his thoughts to his future plans as he sunk into the hammock.

Up until this point, everything that Krivax had done was in the pursuit of making it more likely that both he and Azjol-Nerub would survive the Lich King. Now that he had finally succeeded in his efforts to establish diplomatic contact between Azjol-Nerub and the Eastern Kingdoms, the likelihood of survival was already much higher. Even if the governments of the Eastern Kingdoms did not decide to send aid after hearing about the Lich King, their contact with the Church of the Holy Light was already a game changer.

Not to mention the fact that Azjol-Nerub would actually have somewhere they could flee to if the situation became dire enough.

Now all that was left to do was to continue his efforts to save as many lives as possible and prepare for Azeroth’s many future crises.

Given that the Alliance had not yet formed and the Horde still had not yet conquered Khaz Modan, he still had a little time left before he needed to make a move to change the events of canon, although that time was quickly running out.

Soon after the Horde succeeded in conquering Khaz Modan, they would capture Alexstrasza with the Dragon Soul and forcibly use her as a broodmare so that they could supply their forces with dragons. These dragons would then be used to completely devastate the Kul’tiran navy and allow the Horde to push all the way to Lordaeron, which was something Krivax was determined to prevent.

The easiest way of doing this would be to warn Krasus so that he could prevent Alexstrasza from being captured, but if Krivax wanted to be able to warn him without revealing himself, then he would need to be smart about it.

He would first need to actually find out where Krasus lived, most likely Dalaran as he was a member of the Council at the moment, and he would also need to learn more about how to prevent a mage from just casting a spell on an anonymous letter and instantly figuring out who sent it.

It was a good thing that Archmage Antonidas had sent them an invitation to speak before Dalaran’s ruling body.

He also wanted to find a way to protect Masruk from mind magic, so that he would actually have to option to share secrets with his friend if he so desired.

Fortunately, Vizier Hadix had expressed an intention to speak with him later in the afternoon about the initial findings of his investigation. Reaching into his spatial pouch, Krivax pulled out the introductory spellbook on transmutation that Hadix gave him, a long thread of silk covered in insects and a filled waterskin, and began studying while also enjoying a snack.

Having four arms was extremely convenient.

While he might want to just take a nap, it was too important for the sake of his future that he used his free time to learn as many useful skills as possible, and transmutation was a very useful school of magic.

…

“Wake up, Vizier Krivax.”

Krivax was startled awake by an annoyed voice that pulled him out of the pleasant dream he was having about the giant Lordaronian crabs he’d eaten a few days ago. He looked to see Vizier Hadix looking judgmentally down at him, the spellbook that was stuck to the side of the hammock, and the puddle of insect-filled water on the floor.

“Vizier Hadix, how has your investigation been going?” Krivax asked as calmly as he could while he pulled himself out of the hammock and began cleaning up the mess.

In his experience, the best way to avoid an awkward situation was to pretend it never happened.

Hadix stared at him with an exasperated expression for a few moments before he sighed and seemingly came to the conclusion that it would be best to move on.

“The investigation has gone well enough,” said Vizier Hadix. “I have not been able to find any evidence that the locals are aware of the existence of the Void from any of the books that I have been able to gain access to.”

Krivax didn’t find this to be particularly surprising; as far he was aware, the first priest in the Eastern Kingdoms to study the Void systematically was Natalie Seline, a priestess from Stormwind who went to study the orcs’ dark magic after the kingdom’s destruction to be able to better combat them.

He vaguely remembered that there was also some mage in Dalaran studying shadow magic, which is what the lore used to call Void magic, during this time period, but he couldn’t recall the exact details.

“However, I have yet to examine what Dalaran has to offer,” Hadix continued. “Until I have done that, we cannot make any real conclusions. In addition, I find some of the reports about the magic of these ‘orcs’ to be highly concerning. I intend to look further into this matter when I have the opportunity.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing that our tour of Dalaran is scheduled for next week,” said Krivax, holding back a yawn as he finished clearing up the mess. “Does that mean you’ll be handling the delegation’s day-to-day affairs until then?” he asked hopefully.

“Why would I do that, Vizier Krivax?” Hadix asked dubiously, immediately crushing his student’s hopes. “You are doing a well enough job on your own thus far, and it would be terribly rude of me to take away such a learning experience from you while also denying you your chance to make your mark on the world.”

So what you mean to say is, ‘why wouldn’t I leave the annoying task of dealing with the humans to you so I can do my own thing?’ Krivax thought with a sigh.

“I understand, Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax in resignation. “While you are here, I have a question in regard to magic. Has the Order developed any of its own methods in protecting itself from scrying and other forms of Divination magic?”

Krivax felt like it was pretty likely that an organization as secretive and as old as the Order of Kal’tut would have put significant efforts into protecting its secrets from magical information gathering.

“We have,” Hadix confirmed easily before his tone turned inquisitive. “Do you have a specific reason for asking? Your mental defenses are sufficient protection to guard yourself against casual attempts to discover your secrets, and I am fully capable of protecting you from more thorough efforts.”

“It is very likely that I will continue to face much worse than ‘casual attempts’, especially since we are soon going to be visiting Dalaran,” said Krivax. “If I am going to continue to be the face of this delegation, it is likely that there are many who will continue in their efforts to learn everything that I know.”

One of the problems that Krivax had was that he simply did not know everything that was possible with arcane magic, but he could imagine many ways someone could learn something they shouldn’t. How was he supposed to protect either Azjol-Nerub’s or the Order’s secrets in a world where a mage could simply walk into his room and cast a spell that looked into the past or something equally crazy?

“Hmmm, their leader, Antonidas, is of… considerable power,” Hadix said reluctantly, humming aloud as he clicked his clawed fingers together. “And even if he has no direct equals, those he views as peers are likely a potential threat you are in no condition to face directly…”

Having decided, Hadix reached into his spatial bag without any further hesitation and pulled out a completely blank book.

“It is fortunate that I considered matters of your continued education before we left Azjol-Nerub,” said Hadix as he handed the book over to Krivax. “This spellbook contains much of what the Order has developed over the years. The portion dedicated to protecting oneself from Divination magic should prove sufficient for your needs. I had intended to give this to you at a later time, but your arguments are sound.”

Krivax perked up in excitement and immediately began flipping through the spellbook until he reached the section that Hadix had mentioned. While it had been blank before, it had suddenly become filled with writing as soon as he had touched it. Krivax assumed that there was some kind of touch-based ward that would only allow it to be read by members of the Order, but he had no idea how it had actually determined that he was a member.

“Thank you, Vizier Hadix!” said Krivax gratefully. “Is there any spell in here that would allow me to protect someone else from mind magic?”

“Elder Malab’s Advanced Ward of Mental Protection should be enough to guard the mind of your little warrior friend,” said Hadix knowingly. “Though I do not see why you would bother. I know you are not half-witted enough to share secrets that are not yours to share. That would be very unwise of you, after all.”

“Of course not,” said Krivax quickly, responding to the Vizier’s implied threat. “I just… worry, is all.”

“Hmph. Very well,” said Vizier Hadix, moving on from the matter. “If there is nothing else, then I shall leave to evaluate Vizier Crinis’s investigation into the spatial distortions emanating from the so-called Dark Portal. Given what I have seen so far, it is very likely that the High King will decide that it is in Azjol-Nerub’s interest to establish a permanent portal link between this land and Northrend.”

That made sense to Krivax; while the kingdom was not overly worried about the Horde, they did want to have a way to deal with them just in case they did eventually prove to become a threat. Not only that, but he knew that both Hadix and Crinis had been surprised and impressed by Antonidas’s display. Couple that with Anub’rekhan’s interest in the Light, and it was no surprise that there was growing interest in the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Of course, Vizier Hadix. I’ll just go and start studying while I still have the chance.”

“Hmph. Try your best not to fall asleep again.”

As soon as the Vizier left, closing the door behind him, Krivax made his way back to his hammock and eagerly opened up his new spellbook, determined this time to do as Hadix said and not fall asleep. Krivax did not know for certain how much time he had left before the invasion of Khaz Modan, but he did know that if he wanted his plans to succeed, then he couldn’t afford to waste a second.

Chapter Text

Krivax could feel his sense of excitement growing as he, a few other members of the delegation, and a small escort of knights left Lordaeron and began making their way to Dalaran.

The past week had been stressful, and the chance to be free of his normal responsibilities and instead spend his time touring a true magical city was something that he was looking forward to. While the amount of cultural misunderstandings that were happening between the delegation and Lordaeron was steadily decreasing, Krivax’s job had not actually gotten much easier.

High King Anub’arak and the rest of Azjol-Nerub’s leadership were increasingly debating the costs and benefits of establishing some manner of settlement in the Eastern Kingdoms, and where such a settlement should be built. As a result, Anub’arak directed the delegation to subtly evaluate how the locals would react to such a thing.

Needless to say, nobody was particularly enthusiastic about living near a powerful empire of xenophobic spider people that may or may not become a threat in the future. The fact that nerubians generally lived underground and that they would not be claiming land that the other kingdoms wanted made very little difference. It didn’t help that pretty much all of the northern section of the continent was claimed by one kingdom or another, the only exception being the small bits of land that still belonged to the trolls.

If Azjol-Nerub ever did decide to build a city in the Eastern Kingdoms, then it would be hard to do so without stepping on somebody’s toes.

In addition to that headache, the atmosphere in the palace was starting to grow increasingly uncomfortable as negotiations faltered between the human kingdoms. This was in spite of reports from the ambassadors from Ironforge and Gnomeregan that the Horde was making preparations to march north.

Trixie had come to him more than once to talk about the threat the Horde posed to her people and ask if there was anything that they could do to help. Apparently, Gnomeregan’s embassy had decided that she could be of more help to her people as an ‘expert’ on the nerubians than as just one more warrior to fight off the Horde, much to her displeasure.

Unfortunately, Krivax doubted that Azjol-Nerub would be willing to get involved in the war until it became clear how it affected them.

All of this meant that he was eager to get away from Lordaeron for a while and set his eyes on one of the most famous cities in Warcraft for the first time. Especially since it meant that he would get the chance to look into Krasus while he was there. Even if he allowed himself to enjoy his time in Dalaran, he couldn’t allow himself to forget that there were certain goals that he needed to accomplish.

“Krivax, how long will we be staying in Dalaran?”

Krivax was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of his friend asking him a question and he turned his attention back to the present.

“I’m not sure, Masruk, it depends on a few different factors,” said Krivax, turning to look at the warrior. It mostly depended on how long Vizier Hadix felt like staying in the city, which would be influenced by his investigation into the Void. “Why do you ask?”

“I doubt that the trip will be very entertaining,” Masruk explained. “Visiting a magical city is much more interesting for you than it is for me.”

“Aren’t you looking forward to sparring with some of the mages there?” asked Krivax, trying his best to excite his friend. “I’ve already noticed a few differences between our magic and that of the people here. I’m sure that there will be differences in the way that we fight as well.”

“From what you have told me of Dalaran, I doubt I will actually be able to find anyone willing to spar with me,” Masruk said evenly. “Most of the mages in Dalaran are scholars, and even those who are not will not be interested in fighting someone who isn’t a mage.”

Unfortunately, that was very likely to be true from what Krivax could tell.

“Do you think there’s anything else in Dalaran that you might find interesting?”

Masruk took on a contemplative expression as he considered the question, eventually reaching an answer that Krivax found surprising.

“I think I might like reading about their history,” said Masruk, sounding unsure of himself. “I still remember when you first told me about the Nerubian-Vrykul Wars and other stories about our people’s history. Do you think that the history of these people might be as interesting as our own?”

“I’m sure that it is,” Krivax said encouragingly. It would be nice if Masruk developed a hobby outside of just fighting with people. “Once we’re there, I’ll ask if they have any history books about their wars.”

“Thank you,” said Masruk, his expression brightening. “I think I would like that.”

The two of them made companionable conversation as their group traveled down the dirt road to Dalaran along the edge of Lordamere Lake. Given that Capital City and Dalaran were close enough that residents of one city could see the other, it didn’t take them very long before they reached their destination.

Dalaran was a city of large domed buildings and tall, majestic spires. Most of the buildings were painted violet, and Krivax could easily tell that the city was nearly completely drenched in arcane energies. The city itself was much larger than Krivax had expected, and reminded him that aside from their mages, Dalaran was home to a large population of non-mage residents as well.

As they approached the city’s gate, however, it became clear that traffic had been cleared out in anticipation of their arrival when they saw several mages waiting to welcome them. They were a small group of an older human man, a female elf, and a male gnome, the latter two of whom looked young and nervous.

“Welcome to Dalaran,” said the heavyset man dressed in elaborate, violet robes. “I am Archmage Ansirem Runeweaver, and these are my apprentices. I will be your guide during your initial tour of Dalaran.”

“Greetings, Archmage Runeweave. I am Vizier Krivax, and these are Vizier Hadix and Vizier Crinis,” said Krivax, stepping forward to address the Archmage. He didn’t bother to introduce Masruk or any of the other warriors who had come to serve as protection since none of them were expected to act in a diplomatic position. “We’ve heard much about your city during our time in Capital City and look forward to seeing it for ourselves.”

“Then I hope we meet your expectations,” said Archmage Ansirem. “I must confess, I was surprised when I failed to see Spiderlord Anub’rekhan accompanying your group. Has something happened that prevented him from joining you?”

“Anub’rekhan chose to stay in Capital City to handle any diplomatic affairs that might emerge during our absence. He regrets that he could not come to visit your city,” said Krivax, lying only a little.

Anub’rekhan chose to stay in Capital City because he was far more interested in the Light than he was in Dalaran. Krivax had been a bit surprised by how enthusiastic the Spiderlord seemed to be about the Light, but he was definitely happy about it. The Light was the single most powerful weapon that Azjol-Nerub could gain against the threat of the Lich King, and it was nice to see things moving in a positive direction.

Vizier Hadix had so far been content to leave investigation into the Light to the Spiderlord, but Krivax felt like that would change after the Vizier learned the effect that the Light had on the Void.

“I see,” said the Archmage, his tone neutral. “In that case, I will show you through the city and then to your accommodations.”

The Archmage quickly turned and began making his way into the city, his apprentices following behind him after a moment of hesitation. Their escorts of knights bid them farewell, explaining that their protection was now the responsibility of Dalaran, and left to being their journey back to Capital City.

As soon as Krivax stepped through the gate, he could feel himself passing through a ward that he hadn’t previously sensed. He wasn’t sure if the ward was only to alert the authorities that somebody had entered the city, or if it usually kept people out, but nobody in their group had any issues entering the city.

The first thing that Krivax noticed as he stepped onto the streets of Dalaran was the diversity of the residents walking through the streets, although many stopped to unabashedly stare as soon as they saw the nerubians. As far as he knew, Capital City was already a fairly cosmopolitan city, but he could already tell that Dalaran was much more so.

With a single glance, Krivax could make out dwarves, gnomes, humans, elves, and even a couple of goblins. He had only seen a few elves in Capital City, and even fewer goblins. The city itself was much more beautiful than he had been expecting, and its citizens looked significantly healthier than those in Fairwater, or even Capital City.

“Welcome to Evoker’s Street,” said Archmage Runeweaver, his tone filled with pride. “The first street that everyone sees the first time they enter Dalaran. To our right is the city’s residential areas, which include lodgings for those who are accepted into our city to learn magic. If you go further down in that direction then you will eventually find yourself in the famous Magus Commerce Exchange, a place where you can find goods that cannot be found anywhere else in Azeroth.”

Krivax was more than a little interested in discovering how true those claims were. From what he could tell, the mages of the Eastern Kingdoms seemed noticeably more adept at enchanting than the Circle of Viziers, likely due to the influence of Quel'thalas.

It would make his life much easier if he could buy an enchanted quill so that he didn’t need to struggle to write legible Common while responding to diplomatic letters.

“To our left are many of the city’s administrative buildings, as well as Eventide Plaza, where you can find many restaurants and the city’s main bank,” Archmage Runeweaver continued. “If you go down further in that direction, then you will eventually reach the Violet Citadel, the city’s main fortress and the meeting place of Dalaran's ruling body, the Council of Six.”

Even with his view being disrupted by the many buildings between him and the Violet Citadel, Krivax could still easily see the citadel’s massive spire towering over the rest of the city.

“And finally, at the city’s center, are its many places of learning,” Archmage Runeweaver said reverentially. “Teaching the next generation of mages is Dalaran’s most important duty. I look forward to showing you one of our ongoing lectures at the end of our tour. But for now, I think that I will show you all to your prepared lodging in the residential area, and then we can go take a look around the Magus Commerce Exchange, if that’s acceptable to you..”

Krivax glanced at Hadix and Crinis, who were both quietly looking around the city with visible interest.

“That sounds good, Archmage Runeweaver,” Krivax said politely after seeing that neither of Viziers had an objection.

After that, they were quickly escorted through the streets under the curious eyes of the city’s inhabitants to a few relatively secluded buildings in the residential area. The buildings were apparently built to house Dalaran’s important guests, and were extensively warded to keep out those who didn’t have permission to enter.

Krivax could tell by the lodging’s magically expanded exterior that the city had done as much as they could to prepare for their arrival, but there were still a few things that needed to be done to make the building comfortable for nerubians. Krivax directed the few skitterers that had traveled with them to begin weaving sleeping webs in the corners of the room.

Just as he was preparing to leave, Krivax paused as he noticed a trio of floating dishes filled with various shellfish headed in their direction.

“This city is more impressive than I expected,” said Vizier Crinis as she lifted one of the shrimp to her mandibles from the floating plate. “Their wards leave much to be desired, but their enchantments are quite advanced.”

“The humans learned magic from the elves,” said Vizier Hadix, looking over the food that had been presented to him. “From what our historical records tell us, it’s not a surprise that elves focus their efforts on such frivolous nonsense.”

“What is wrong with their wards, Vizier Crinis?” Krivax asked inquisitively. “I wasn’t able to detect anything wrong with them.”

“Even without examining them in depth, I can sense many vulnerabilities in their wards,” said Vizier Crinis, her tone derisive. “If it were not for the strength of the leyline nexus that the city is built upon, then I would have no difficulty teleporting in and out of the city without permission.”

“The nexus itself is one of the most powerful I’ve ever seen,” said Vizier Hadix, begrudgingly impressed.

Krivax listened to the two Viziers share their impressions of the city as he enjoyed his meal

By the time the three of them made their way outside, a small crowd of curious pedestrians had gathered to get a glimpse of the giant spider people being led through their city. Thankfully, the city’s guards were doing a good job keeping the crowd at bay, so Krivax decided to just ignore them.

He had long since gotten used to the staring.

“I’m sorry about this,” said Archmage Runeweaver. “Word has gone around about you. There’s not much we can do to stop a crowd from forming. If you’ve finished looking over your accommodations, then would you like to continue the tour?”

“Of course, Archmage, I think we’re all excited to get a look at your Magus Commerce Exchange,” Krivax said politely.

After giving a stoic nod, the Archmage began leading them down the street and to their destination sharing historical anecdotes of the city the entire time. Krivax could tell that the man didn’t exactly have his heart in doing something so beneath his station, but it made sense that the Council of Six would want to send an Archmage to watch over them.

“Archmage Runeweaver, I’ve noticed that the crowd seems to be much less… hostile than the crowds in Capital City,” said Krivax, interrupting the man with a question that had been on his mind. “Why is that?”

“The citizens of Dalaran are more than accustomed to strange sights,” explained the Archmage. “That’s just a natural consequence of living in a city with such a high proportion of mages. I couldn’t tell you how many times we’ve had strange creatures running through the streets just because a student decided to cast a polymorph spell on an inanimate object.”

“I see…”

It didn’t take them very long to reach the Magus Commerce Exchange, and for them to split up and go into separate stores. Hadix and Crinis went into the Agronomical Apothecary to purchase magical reagents while Krivax and Masruk went into Simply Enchanting to quickly get a few enchanted quills from a very nervous looking elf.

They even had enough time to go into the bookstore and purchase a few books on war history for Masruk.

Krivax had a feeling that the price demanded by the elf salesman was not particularly fair, but it mattered little to him. He had more than enough gold after all.

When the Viziers finally made their way out of the store, Krivax was surprised to see them both with identical expressions of satisfaction.

“Did you find what you were looking for, Vizier Hadix?” Krivax asked curiously.

“Dalaran’s supply of rare magical reagents is surprisingly varied and comprehensive. Very impressive,” said Vizier Hadix. “There are a few materials that are common here that I would find exceedingly difficult to acquire in Azjol-Nerub and wider Northrend.”

“Quite right,” Vizier Crinis agreed. “I believe that creating a permanent portal between Northrend and the Eastern Kingdoms will be much more feasible than I previously estimated.”

Krivax had not expected the two Viziers to be so enthusiastic about Dalaran, but he was glad to see it.

“If there is nothing else that you would like to purchase in the Magus Commerce Exchange, then I’d suggest we continue on to the Violet Citadel,” said Archmage Runeweaver, interrupting their conversation. “After all, your meeting with the Council of Six is scheduled for a few days from now. It would be best if you are familiar with the building beforehand.”

“How much of the Citadel will we be allowed to see?” asked Krivax as they started moving again.

“I will show you through the reception area, and the public portion of the Grand Library,” said Archmage Runeweaver. “I will also point out the portal that you will use to transport yourself to the Council of Six’s meeting room, the Chamber of Air.”

The Violet Citadel was a truly impressive structure that grew more and more amazing as they approached. Krivax had no doubt in his mind that such a massive spire could only have been raised by magic. The Citadel was a large building composed of many smaller spires surrounding a much larger one with some kind of circular structure surrounding its tip.

Archmage Runeweaver quickly led them up the stairs and introduced them to the Citadel’s secretary, a young human woman, and then brought them to the library. Krivax had seen many truly impressive libraries in Azjol-Nerub, but none of them, aside from maybe the Order’s secret library, compared to the Grand Library alone. Many young students could be seen walking through the library aisles as enchanted books flew through the air, conveniently sorting themselves in the many bookcases that stretched to the high ceiling.

The fact that this was only the public portion of the library made Krivax wonder what the entire Grand Library looked like, restricted knowledge and all.

Many of the students stopped their studying to stare at the nerubians, but a stern look from Archmage Runeweaver sent their attention back to their books.

“Let’s go. Many of them have important examinations at the end of the week, and they cannot afford to be distracted,” said the Archmage.

After leading them to the portal that would take them to the Chamber of Air, there was only a single remaining stop on their tour.

“Now we go to our final and, in my humble opinion, most important, destination,” said the Archmage, his tone one of excitement. “Runeweaver Square, a portion of the city named after one of my ancestors where most of the city’s classrooms are located in. We will be looking into one of the ongoing lessons.”

Krivax and the rest of the group were quickly brought to the center of the city, where Runeweaver Square was located, and they all entered a classroom that was being taught by one Arcanist Melelis Flametrail, an older elf man. Their entry into the classroom obviously caused a commotion, but Archmage Runeweaver and Arcanist Flametrail were soon able to reestablish order and get the class back on topic.

And it didn’t take long before Krivax realized that the topic being taught was magical warding. The elf stood at the front of the classroom, writing out some kind of Arcane formula on a chalkboard that Krivax didn’t recognize but seemed… lacking. Was this an introduction course?

It didn’t help that the elf simply wasn’t a good teacher. He did a poor job of explaining some of the underlying concepts, seemed impatient whenever one of the students asked a question, and just generally seemed like he would prefer to be somewhere else.

It made Krivax wonder how Dalaran chose their instructors, were they volunteers, or had Arcanist Flametrail been assigned to teach the class?

They all watched the lesson for some time with Archmage Runeweaver quietly explaining Dalaran’s educational system before Arcanist Flametrail was very suddenly interrupted.

“Hmph. What absolute nonsense,” Vizier Hadix said derisively while speaking Common, loudly.

Krivax buried his face in all four of his hands as the room immediately grew silent enough that you could hear a pin drop.

“Oh? Does one of Dalaran’s esteemed guests have something to say about our lesson?” Arcanist Flametrail asked through gritted teeth after composing himself. “I’d certainly love to hear what a giant spider from a frozen wasteland like Northrend could possibly have to say about my teaching.”

“Your wards have more vulnerabilities than a hatchling’s first web,” Vizier Hadix said bluntly. “If you dared to teach such garbage in Azjol-Nerub, I would make certain that you never taught magic again.”

“If you feel so strongly about the matter, insect, then why don’t you come to the front of the room and correct me?” Arcanist Flametrail asked mockingly.

"I shall, elf, and I won't kill myself in the process of doing so," said Vizier Hadix, not hesitating to move to the front of the classroom.

Krivax watched with trepidation as Vizier Hadix began to humiliate the elf by pointing out a multitude of vulnerabilities in his Warding formula, introducing ways to improve upon it, and even drawing out a rather complex warding diagram that had various students furiously taking notes. It didn’t help that Hadix stopped every once in a while to berate the elf for his incompetence in front of his students.

By the time he was done, Arcanist Flametrail was silently seething, unable to retort after being so thoroughly outclassed in the very subject he was supposed to be teaching.

“How dare you! What gives you the right to come into my classroom, take over my lesson and attempt to shame me in such a way?!” Arcanist Flametrail finally yelled, practically frothing in rage after having enough.

“In order; I was invited, you asked after I pointed out your failings and I didn't shame you, your own incompetence did,” Hadix replied evenly.

“Enough! If you are so confident in your magical ability, then I’m sure you’ll have no problem demonstrating it firsthand,” said Arcanist Flametrail.

"Oh no," said Krivax, guessing what was coming. He had a feeling that the elf was about to say something very unwise.

"Under the rules and regulations of Dalaran, I formally challenge you to a magical duel. The terms of which are that if I best you, you will bow and apologize to me for your poor manners!" said Arcanist Flametrail.

“Very well, elf, if you are so eager for further humiliation, then I will not deny you,” Vizier Hadix said haughtily. “I shall not ask anything of you, as I doubt a mage as pathetic as yourself has anything I would want.”

Krivax couldn’t help but let out a long-suffering sigh. ‘So much for diplomacy.’

A NOTE FROM FIZZICKS

Chapter Text

Krivax closed the book on Dalaran’s laws as soon as he finished reading the portions on magical duels and moved to return it to the bookshelf filled with recently purchased books that Hadix thought would be useful for his student’s continued education.

Call him paranoid, but while Hadix might be confident that he was more than capable of handling anything that came his way, Krivax wanted to learn everything he could beforehand.

Apparently, magical dueling was a tradition that had been brought to Dalaran from Quel’thalas, unsurprisingly, and was a method that mages sometimes used to settle disagreements. It made sense to Krivax, in a society that had access to potent magical healing and powerful arcane defenses, fighting to prove a person’s magical competence or to resolve a feud would naturally be more common than on Earth.

Especially given the fact that Azeroth was an extremely dangerous place, which naturally led to cultures and people that were generally more hostile, combative, and martial-focused than Earth.

Of course, there was a bit of bureaucracy involved in scheduling a magical duel that had taken them two days to arrange. Both of the participants had to go in front of an official and give their consent by signing a contract stating the terms of the duel. There was also a hefty fee to pay for the facilities and all of the supporting personnel, which Flametrail had insisted on paying in full due to some kind of cultural expectations placed on the challenger, but the duel itself was a relatively straightforward matter.

The duel would take place in a venue prepared for such occasions, a small stadium that would allow interested parties to watch. Both of the participants would be protected by the stadium's numerous defensive enchantments, and there would be mages and healers ready to intervene as soon as things looked to be going wrong, but there otherwise were few rules other than to nonlethally defeat your opponent in magical combat.

There was a rule that prohibited the usage of magical items, which Krivax had worried would extend to spellweaving, but an administrator had ensured him it didn’t after learning what spellweaving was. The fact that spellweaving reserved a portion of the caster's mana and only imbued magic into silk temporarily put it into the same category as protection spells that were crafted beforehand.

It was much closer to precasting a spell than permanently enchanting an item.

As long as both participants were informed of the situation, then spellweaving didn’t break any rules. When Arcanist Flametrail was made aware that Hadix would be spellweaving, he hadn’t seemed to care, and Hadix was more than willing to take advantage of that arrogance.

“I still don’t understand why that elf would be dumb enough to challenge you,” said Krivax, huffing in frustration. “Didn’t you make it abundantly clear that you outclass him, Vizier Hadix?”

The Vizier was hanging from one of the webs attached to the wall of their assigned lodgings while weaving a spell far more complex than Krivax could understand into a long strand of silk. He wasn’t even done with his spellweaving yet, but the silk already glowed with an unreasonable amount of arcane energy.

“There’s a possibility this scenario was arranged by the city’s leadership in order to test my abilities. If that is the case, then this an acceptable outcome because it will allow me to show some of what we are capable of, but the most likely explanation is simply that people often make irrational decisions,” said Hadix as he prepared himself for the coming duel. “That is especially true when they are highly emotional. Besides, if our historical records on the elves remain accurate, making detrimental decisions due to their own arrogance is a feature inherent to their species.”

Krivax very carefully did not react to that hypocritical statement as he watched Hadix continue his spellweaving.

“Hmph. Don’t think that I don’t know what’s going on in that odd little mind of yours,” said Hadix, huffing in amusement. “Arrogance is only arrogance when it is undeserved. Otherwise, it’s simply having a good understanding of one’s capabilities. The difference between me and that elf is that unlike him, my understanding of myself in comparison to others is accurate.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax, trying his best to keep a straight face and sound as genuine as possible. “I was not thinking anything derogatory about you at all.”

“I see that those lessons I gave you in how to properly lie have had some effect,” Hadix said dryly, turning his attention away from his weaving to glance at him. “Perhaps if you continue practicing for a few decades, you might become a skilled enough liar to make me second guess myself.”

Yes, Vizier Hadix, I have no idea why I thought you were arrogant. How odd of me.

“So you’re certain that there’s no possibility that you will lose?” Krivax asked curiously.

While he had studied under Hadix for a significant amount of time by now, he did not actually know that much about his mentor. Krivax knew that Hadix was more powerful than the average Vizier, but he didn’t know how powerful that was, nor had he actually seen a full-on battle between two fully mature mages.

Ignoring the potential diplomatic headaches that this might cause him in the future, Krivax was actually feeling a bit excited to watch the duel. What kind of person wouldn’t want to watch a fight between two wizards?

“Certainty does not exist when it comes to a fight between two mages,” Hadix said firmly. “There’s every possibility that I will lose, although that remains exceedingly unlikely.”

Krivax was surprised by the Vizier’s answer, he had expected the Vizier to say something like, ‘Don’t insult me by asking ridiculous questions, Vizier Krivax. That pathetic elf couldn’t harm me if he lived for another millennium!’

“That isn’t the answer that I was expecting to hear,” Krivax said honestly, curious to hear the Vizier’s perspective.

“There are many among the Circle of Viziers who would have given you an answer more similar to the one I suspect you were expecting,” said Vizier Hadix, his tone uncharacteristically solemn and his gaze far off. “But that is merely because they lack experience in actual combat. There were many times throughout the years that I have seen members of the Order die to those under the sway of the Void, even when the enemy was weaker than them. In combat, anything is possible, and that is why it is wise to deal with your enemies quickly and quietly or avoid a fight whenever possible.”

Krivax wasn’t quite sure what to think about that, it certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting from the Vizier.

“If that is the case, then why did you antagonize that elf and accept his request to duel?”

“Because, Krivax, aside from the fact that his incompetence offended my sensibilities, there is very little that irritates me more than a teacher who fails to take their responsibilities seriously, especially one who teaches magic,” Hadix hissed out, his tone filled with anger simply at the thought of it. “If a mage agrees to teach the next generation, then there should be a minimal expectation that they do not sabotage their students through either incompetence or disinterest.”

Krivax paused as he stared at his mentor, considering what the Vizier had just said.

For all of the time that he had known Hadix, he always considered him to be relatively uncaring about most matters of morality. Oh, he knew that Hadix wasn’t some kind of monster that trampled over people for no reason, but he also knew that the Vizier didn’t have the slightest qualms about getting his hands dirty if he needed to.

The fact that Hadix felt strongly about this topic was not something that Krivax had expected. Even if he did care about the sanctity of the teacher-student relationship, Krivax wouldn’t have expected him to get so riled up about it.

Although looking back, his mentor had always treated matters of his education seriously. From the moment that Krivax had first come under the Vizier’s tutelage, he had never failed to answer his questions on magic with… relative patience. If Krivax wanted to learn something and Hadix was busy, then he was always provided with an appropriate spellbook, which were all fairly valuable, or Hadix would get back to him later.

He also acted responsibly with the other members of the Surface World Research Division as far as Krivax could tell.

To him, that just seemed like common decency, but he could also remember hearing examples of Viziers treating those under them with… much less decency during his time in Kilah’kuk.

He was a bit curious about how strongly the Vizier felt on this topic, and he could tell that Hadix was lost in his thoughts and wasn’t paying him very much attention, so he decided to see if he could learn more.

“Well, I suppose I should be grateful that Arcanist Flametrail is simply incompetent,” said Krivax, keeping his tone casual. “I doubt I want to know what you would have done if he’d been sabotaging his students intentionally.”

Hadix’s expression immediately grew menacing enough that Krivax felt a shiver of dread go through his carapace.

“No, you do not.”

The Vizier’s tone was dark enough that Krivax abandoned any intentions to probe Hadix further. Though he had gotten used to the Vizier’s dominating presence, he still wasn’t brave enough to dip his mandibles into what looked like a personal subject.

Seeing that Hadix was in no mood for further conversation, Krivax decided that it would be a good idea to bury himself in his spellbooks until it was time for them to leave in a few hours.

Elder Vizier Malab’s Advanced Ward of Mental Protection was much more difficult to learn than Krivax had initially hoped, so most of his recent efforts were dedicated to learning the Order’s Anti-Divination magics.

Soon enough, one of the delegation’s warriors was knocking on the door and informing them that the venue had been prepared for the duel. The walk to the stadium was a quiet one, although Krivax could feel his excitement growing as they made their way through the streets of Dalaran and grew closer to the stadium.

When they reached their destination, a large building not too far from the Violet Citadel, the two of them were quickly ushered in separate directions by a few guards. Hadix was escorted to a preparation room and Krivax found himself being taken to the seating arrangements prepared for him and Vizier Crinis.

Which was in fact just a section of the stadium stands that was filled with large cushions. It wasn’t exactly easy to make a chair for a nerubian after all, so Krivax supposed this was the best that they could figure out.

I guess they must be pretty comfortable at least because Vizier Crinis is looking pretty cozy.

The female Vizier looked more than a little pleased, laying down on a large cushion and reading through her notes. Crinis had taken it upon herself to learn more about Dalaran and their government over the past few days in preparation for their important meeting with the Council of Six. Krivax had noticed a marked increase in respect for Dalaran from the Viziers in comparison to the amount of respect they had for everyone else in the Eastern Kingdoms.

Krivax greeted the Vizier and moved over to his own cushion nearby, folding his legs under himself and lowering his body as his warrior escorts, including Masruk, took defensible locations nearby while doing their best to remain unobtrusive.

Krivax had wanted to chat with Masruk while watching the fight, but the warrior in charge of his protective escort made it clear that he couldn’t spare his friend while Vizier Hadix and Anub’rekhan were away. It was fine for his friend to hang out with him while they had the overpowered Vizier or Spiderlord by their side, but when that wasn’t the case, Masruk needed to spend more time doing his guard duty and less time making conversation.

It wasn’t ideal, but Krivax understood the necessity, there would be plenty more opportunities for them to chat when it was more appropriate to do so.

Oh… I like this.

The moment he sat down, Krivax was immediately surprised to find that the cushions were enchanted. He wasn’t exactly sure what spell it was enchanted with, but he could tell that it was supernaturally comfortable, warming, and contouring itself to his body just the perfect amount.

It wasn’t as good as a well-made cocoon blanket, but it was still really nice.

God, I love magic. It almost makes it worth it to be reborn in a deathworld that’s facing multiple future apocalypses.

After taking a few minutes to enjoy the cushion, Krivax decided to take a look around the stadium to see if he could see anyone else that he recognized. After all, he was certain that there were more than a few important people who would be interested in watching Vizier Hadix participate in a duel.

There were many people in the stadium, mages, and non-mages alike, most having likely come to see the ‘newcomer’ take on the ‘home team’ as it were, including several important-looking individuals who were wearing emblems of the Kirin Tor on their robes, but nobody that Krivax recognized. Unfortunately, just because he was familiar with some of Dalaran’s most important members due to his metaknowledge, that didn’t mean that he would recognize them after they became real people.

Of course, the person that Krivax most wanted to find was Krasus, but he had no idea what the Archmage actually looked like.

Just as Krivax was about to give up looking through the crowd and pull out some bugs to eat while waiting for the duel to begin, he was nearly thrown from his seat in shock by a voice speaking up next to him from seemingly thin air.

“Vizier Krivax, how are you enjoying your arrangements?” Archmage Runeweaver asked calmly, having approached Krivax sometime while he was distracted. “I apologize, but this is the best we could do on such short notice given your physiology.”

“Archmage Runeweaver, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” said Krivax, widening his mandibles together in a gesture of surprise. After their initial tour, he hadn’t seen very much of the Archmage given that someone as important as him obviously had more important things to do than babysit their delegation.

“Well, I do find myself feeling a bit guilty for failing to ease tensions between Vizier Hadix and Arcanist Flametrail during their argument. You are members of a diplomatic delegation, after all. Though to be honest, I also find myself curious about the results of this bout,” the Archmage admitted. “We rarely get to host mages outside of Dalaran and Quel’thalas after all. It would be interesting to see how our peoples’ compare in magical combat.”

“I doubt there is anything that you could have done to interrupt the argument after it had already started, Archmage,” Krivax said genuinely, understanding his mentor well enough to know that he wouldn’t have listened to the Archmage. “As for the match, what do you think about Arcanist Flametrail's chances?”

“Well he did not earn his rank and position lightly, I can say with confidence,” said the Archmage, creating a chair-shaped arcane structure with a wave of his hand and sitting down next to him, the previous seats having been removed due to the nerubians’ needs. “While he is not an Archmage he is still a member of the Kirin Tor and was made a teacher because of his experience and study of wards of nearly all kinds. I hear he even knows a thing or two about the defenses of Quel’Thalas itself, the most potent in the known world. That is most likely why he took Vizier Hadix’s… criticism over his skills and knowledge so personally.”

“Do you know if he has any experience in combat?” asked Krivax, curious about the mage who had challenged his mentor.

“I don’t know,” Runeweaver admitted easily. “Quel’thalas does not share information like that about their mages easily, for all that we are likely the kingdom with the best relations with them, but it is very likely that he has. The elves have been at war with the Zul’Amani, forest trolls, for most of their existence, much longer than the human kingdoms have stood. This means that many of their magisters have no lack of practice when it comes to combat and centuries if not millennia to hone their skill.”

“It does not matter how much experience the little elf has,” interrupted Vizier Crinis, not bothering to look up from her notes. “The gap in ability between him and Vizier Hadix is simply too vast for him to overcome.”

“As you say, Vizier Crinis,” said Archmage Runeweaver, obviously not taking her words to heart. Given that he didn’t have any experience with Hadix, it wasn’t surprising that the Archmage was just writing her words off as arrogant blustering.

Krivax and Runeweaver made small talk about the upcoming duel for the next several minutes before he had the idea of asking the Archmage if he could point out important figures in the crowd. The man didn’t see any particular problem with it, given that most of these figures would be meeting with their delegation in the future, and easily agreed.

Unfortunately, while Runeweave pointed out many people in the crowd, Krivax found that he didn’t recognize any of their names. Just as he was beginning to lose hope of seeing any lore-important individuals, the Archmage spotted a particular elf on the far side of the stadium.

“Hmm… I could have sworn Kel’thuzad would have shown up. He must be busy with his experiments,” muttered the Archmage before raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see Prince Kael’thas without his usual escort.”

Krivax immediately turned to where the Archmage was gesturing and saw an elf man looking effortlessly handsome, as most elvish men did but this one especially so, dressed in an ornate, red robe, and leaning back comfortably in his seat. He seemed to be chatting amiably with a middle-aged human man sitting in the seat next to him, who Runeweaver identified as one Archmage Drenden, and looking exactly like a man that didn’t have a care in the world.

It was hard to believe from looking at him now that in a potential future this guy would go nuts on Fel juice, and still would if Krivax’s actions didn’t change things for the better…

Krivax was just about to ask Runeweaver to tell him more about Kael’thas when he was interrupted by the sudden activation of the enchantments on the stadium’s walls. Krivax watched in amazement as a massive arcane barrier slowly rose to separate the audience from the dueling arena.

It didn’t take long after that before Vizier Hadix and Arcanist Flametrail were both teleported into the barrier, causing chatter among the audience to immediately pick up.

Then a magically amplified voice rang out across the stadium, its source unknown but its function not in doubt.

“In accordance with the rules and regulations of Dalaran in regards to the matter of duels of honor let it be known that Arcanist Flametrail of Quel’thalas and Dalaran has legally and fairly brought forward a challenge to Vizier Hadix of Azjol-Nerub, of which the latter has freely accepted. The stakes of this duel have been decided by the former and state that should Arcanist Flametrail prove victorious that Vizier Hadix must apologize for insults given, while Vizier Hadix has not given any terms for victory,” the nameless announcer explained to the audience, causing the crowd to grow quiet.

The announcer seemed to remain quiet for several moments, allowing everyone to absorb the information before their voice rang out across the stadium once again.

“This is a duel until one side surrenders or is unable to continue battling, with every effort to be made from both participants to refrain from intentional killing blows or the use of forbidden magics within this contest of skill. The usage of magical items is expressly forbidden. Do you accept these terms?” the announcer asked the aforementioned participants.

“Upon the honor of my house, I accept these terms,” Arcanist Flametrail readily agreed, his voice also magically amplified, most likely by the magics of the arena itself.

“I agree to these terms,” said Vizier Hadix shortly, his voice cold and firm as he stared down at his opponent.

“Then, without further ado, let the duel… commence!” the announcer yelled out, signaling the start of the fight.

The moment that the announcer finished speaking, Arcanist Flametrail didn’t hesitate to immediately send a massive ball of fire flying across the arena. The pyroblast was far bigger than anything that Krivax could have produced, and it was cast quicker than he had thought possible.

However, Vizier Hadix seemed far less impressed than Krivax felt, as he merely scoffed derisively and shattered the enormous fireball into three streams of flame that he sent flying back to his opponent from multiple different angles.

The Vizier let out an appreciative hum as the flames dissipated harmlessly the moment they impacted a shimmering ward surrounding the elf, who cast a spell that caused multiple identical images of himself to appear throughout the arena.

“Hmm. Clever, it seems that Flametrail has mixed multiple mirror images with his illusions. Something like that takes more than a little skill,” muttered Runeweaver, sounding reluctantly impressed.

“What’s the difference between a mirror image and an illusion?” asked Krivax, beginning to feel a little worried as he watched all the magically created imitations begin casting a spell.

“An illusion is just that, an illusion created by a mage that is incapable of affecting the real world,” the Archmage explained, not pulling his eyes away from the fight. “A mirror image on the other hand, is a replication of a mage that possesses the genuine ability to cast magic, albeit in a reduced form and at a high cost in mana. Casting both at the same time makes it difficult for an enemy to discern which attacks are real and which are fake, and all this on top of trying to figure out which one is the real caster.”

As if to emphasize the Archmage’s point, every single image finished casting the moment he was done speaking, resulting in a massive barrage of fireballs simultaneously flying toward Hadix from every possible direction.

Krivax could feel the intense heat from where he was sitting, even through the stadium’s barrier. He was certain that if it were him in Vizier Hadix’s position, then the only possible result would be him becoming a very crispy spider. He could feel his worry for his mentor grow.

That worry proved unnecessary, however, as the massive barrage of fireballs passed through Hadix as if he wasn’t even there, smashing into random parts of the arena instead. Most of them were indeed illusions, but several of them burst into explosions of fire that disrupted several of the Arcanist’s illusions.

“It seems Flametrail isn’t the only one who enjoys using illusions,” said Runeweaver, sounding slightly surprised. “That was masterfully done. Not even I managed to detect it until it was disrupted. And to cast an invisibility spell at the same time, that’s not easily done.”

Sure enough, the image of Vizier Hadix flickered and dissipated, seeming to leave the images of Flametrail standing in the arena alone.

To his credit, Arcanist Flametrail didn’t hesitate to begin constructing a magical barrier around himself, but his efforts were immediately shown to be useless.

Exclamations of surprise could be heard throughout the stadium as Vizier Hadix seemed to appear from under Flametrail, the ground of the arena flowing around him as if it were mud as he ascended from below. The Vizier grabbed the surprised elf with all four of his hands and lifted him off the ground before pulling him toward his arachnid face, mandibles open wide.

Krivax had never seen a person lose all color in their face faster than Arcanist Flametrail did. He was certain that it would be a long time before the elf lived down the shriek of fear he let out as he hastily teleported himself to the other side of the stadium.

Hadix, on the other hand, seemed to be in much better spirits, if his mocking laughter was any indication.

“How dare you?!” shouted Flametrail, his expression twisting from one of fear to deep anger.

Vizier Hadix didn’t bother to respond, other than by casting a quick spell before stomping on the ground with both of his forward feet, causing the stadium to shake as the earth cracked and spikes of earth rose to skewer all of the illusions and mirror images.

“What a powerful display of geomancy! How is that possible?” exclaimed Runeweaver as he rose from his seat, his eyes growing wide.

Arcane magic lent itself to easy manipulation of fire and ice for reasons that Krivax didn’t fully understand, maybe arcane magic just lent itself to temperature regulation, but manipulating the earth was much harder and was generally something much more common among shamans.

However, Azjol-Nerub was an underground kingdom and thus had a lot of motivation to develop their ability to manipulate the earth via arcane means.

Archmage Runeweaver wasn’t the only one who was surprised; Flametrail also seemed to be stunned as he looked around at the multiple spikes of earth rising out of the ground.

Hadix didn’t seem interested in giving his opponent a chance to recover as he once again opened his mandibles wide, allowing a huge swarm of hissing locusts to emerge from his mouth and fly across the stadium in the elf’s direction.

Flametrail yelled out what Krivax assumed was a Thalassian swear word and frantically threw a stream of fire at the swarm, revealing it to have been an illusion and causing it to dissipate.

The mage seemed to show an expression of relief, which instantly became panic as two intertwined orbs of arcane magic came flying through his flames and smashed into his body, knocking him off his feet and sending him tumbling across the ground.

Krivax was impressed to see that Flametrail actually managed to cast a shielding spell while rolling across the ground that saved him from the next barrage of arcane magic that followed immediately afterward.

“Oh… for a moment I believed that your people were actually able to summon swarms of man-eating insects at will,” muttered the Archmage, sounding a mixture of relieved and tired as he sat back down.

“No… but I do know some Spiderlords who like carrying them around on their person,” Krivax idly mentioned as he watched the very exciting fight.

“Of course you do…”

From that point onward, Flametrail focused almost completely on defense, leveraging his expertise in warding magic to survive an onslaught of spells coming from Vizier Hadix. This eventually resulted in the elf panting in exhaustion as he stood inside an impressive barrier of arcane energy.

“Flametrail’s almost completely out of mana… but if that barrier is as powerful as it looks, I wouldn’t count him out yet,” said Runeweaver, leaning forward in his seat.

“Why’s that Archmage?” asked Krivax. “Things seem pretty hopeless for him from my perspective.”

Just as Runeweaver was about to answer, Flametrail brought both of his palms together and closed his eyes.

Krivax had no idea what the mage was doing at first, but he was soon able to understand when Flametrail began to breathe in a strange pattern and a vortex of mana started swirling around the elf.

“Flametrail is using a technique called evocation,” explained Runeweaver without prompting. “It allows for a mage to regenerate a large amount of mana in a very short amount of time. It’s normally not something that is safe to use during combat, for obvious reasons, but this might be the perfect scenario. If he manages to regain all of his mana, then he’ll be in a much better position to fight Vizier Hadix, who’s likely running low on mana himself by now.”

Krivax doubted that Flametrail would be able to win, even if he did regain all his mana, but as soon as he saw Vizier Hadix pull out the spellweave he had been working on earlier, he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to find out.

The silk glowed brightly with arcane energy, and was woven into a shape similar to what most people would usually expect from a spider web

“If this is the extent of your capabilities, then I see no reason to continue this farce,” said Hadix, throwing the silk into the air.

Krivax watched in amazement as the silk immediately expanded into a massive web-shaped dome that surrounded both him and Arcanist Flametrail. Its effects were immediate as the vortex of mana that was previously circling around Flametrail began to fly off on its own and into the web.

Pieces of Flametrails barrier began to crack like glass and also began floating toward the web.

“What is this?!” shouted the panicking Flametrail, immediately using some of the mana he had regained to throw a ball of fire at Hadix. The fireball barely reached a few feet before redirecting itself into the web, dissipating harmlessly the moment it made contact.

“This is something of my own creation,” said Hadix, sounding smug. “Simply put, any magic you cast while under its effects will find itself stuck in my web, so to speak.”

“Impossible!”

Flametrail frantically threw spell after spell at Hadix and even tried running out of the magical web barrier, but every spell he cast was useless and he barely managed to get himself unstuck the first time he tried physically touching the web.

It wasn’t long before Flametrail was once again completely exhausted, but this time without any barriers to protect him from the telekinetically thrown rock that smashed into his stomach, sending him doubling over in pain.

“You cannot win. Concede while you are still conscious enough to do so,” said Vizier Hadix, fully prepared to follow through on his threat.

Arcanist Flametrail snarled in rage and shot a furious expression toward Hadix, but after a few moments he seemed to collect himself and realize that he had no other options.

“I concede.”

“And thus the duel is decided! The victor, Vizier Hadix of Azjol-Nerub!” declared the magical announcer the second after Flametrail conceded, the arcane barrier around the arena lowering and magical letters projected into the air spelling out the winner’s name for all to see.

And despite one of their own losing, Krivax watched as the stands exploded into cheers at the impressive display of magical combat, even the Archmage next to him standing and giving a respectful applause.

“Told you,” Vizier Crinis’ smug voice sounded out as she also raised and followed the crowd's lead by giving her colleague a polite round of clapping as well.

As for Hadix, he simply took everything in with a huff and made his way to the exit while his opponent picked himself up and did the same with as much grace as he could, likely off to see a healer about his many bruises.

All the while Krivax cheered for his teacher, a new level of respect welling up inside him.

Chapter Text

“And here is the room that you’ll be waiting in until the Council of Six is ready to see you.” said the friendly receptionist lady with a smile, gesturing to the open door that they had been led to.

Krivax followed the other Viziers as they walked passed the receptionist, a female gnome, and took a quick look around the waiting room. After seeing nothing of note aside from the enchanted cushions that had been prepared for them, he turned his attention back to the receptionist and asked her how long it would take for the Council to be ready to see them.

“I shouldn’t be very long,” said the receptionist reassuringly. “I’m sure the Council is very eager to meet you, given Vizier Hadix’s impressive performance during his duel. Once they are ready, I’ll come and get you all and bring you to the portal that leads to the Chamber of Air.”

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the receptionist quietly left and Krivax eagerly made his way over to one of the cushions and lowered himself down. It surprised him a little how well the mages of Dalaran were reacting to the duel between Hadix and Flametrail, and how much it seemed to improve people's opinion of the delegation.

That wasn’t to say that everyone treated them poorly before and loved them now, but he had definitely noticed less polite smiles and more genuine interest. Krivax supposed that it made sense that the mages of Dalaran would feel a sense of respect for magical power and knowledge.

“The enchantments of these cushions are surprisingly complex for something so… frivolous,” said Crinis, staring at her seat as she too made herself comfortable, causing Hadix to mutter something about elves.

“If this meeting goes well, then perhaps some of our own mages can learn these enchantments and apply them to our silk and weaves,” said Krivax enthusiastically, imagining the possibility of cocoons even more comfortable than what they had now. “If Dalaran is truly that much better than our people at enchantment, then there’s a lot we could gain from sending people here to learn.”

“I don’t particularly see why Azjol-Nerub would need floating silverware or obscenely comfortable cushions,” Hadix said testily.

“Even if you don’t have any interest in the enchantments themselves, I’m sure the Circle could turn them into something useful,” said Crinis.

Krivax had been surprised to see how the Vizier’s interest in Dalaran had grown over their stay in the city, and it made him feel hopeful that something productive would come from their coming meeting. After all, if she liked Dalaran and was impressed by it, then wasn’t that a good sign that there were other Viziers who would feel the same way?

“Do you believe that the results of the duel will have any effect on this upcoming meeting, Vizier Crinis?” asked Krivax, interested in the Vizier’s perspective.

“It's possible that they will be more interested in sharing knowledge, after having seen Vizier Hadix’s power firsthand,” said Crinis, her expression thoughtful. “But we already assumed that they would be interested in negotiating for a relationship similar to the one they have with the rest kingdoms of these lands.”

Dalaran was an ostensibly neutral nation that had negotiated agreements that would allow other nations to peacefully send their citizens here to learn magic. Given that the majority of the human kingdoms’ mages had studied in the city, and the crown prince of Quel’thalas himself spent most of his time in Dalaran, the benefits were obvious.

After seeing the city themselves, both Crinis and Hadix felt confident that the Circle of Viziers would agree to send people to learn in Dalaran. That was one of the reasons that caused Krivax to believe that Dalaran was one of the best hopes for cooperation between Azjol-Nerub and the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Aside from that, the most important topics of discussion will be the creation of a portal and the exchange of magical reagents,” Crinis continued after a moment of consideration.

“Do you think you’ll be able to create said portal? Even with the spatial disturbances caused by the Dark Portal?” asked Krivax curiously, knowing that Crinis had already talked about the Dark Portal and its disturbances with Antonidas and many other mages.

“If you had asked me that before we arrived, then I would not have had a good answer for you,” answered the Vizier, sounding reluctant to admit her own inability. “But now that I’ve studied the nexus of leylines that this city was built upon and seen some of the reagents they have available, I’m confident that it should not be an issue.”

“Where in Azjol-Nerub will the portal lead to?” asked Krivax.

“En’kilah, of course,” said Crinis, looking at him as if he were stupid for asking. “Where else would the portal connect to other than the most magically innovative and magically advanced city in Azjol-Nerub?”

“Most magically advanced, perhaps. But most innovative? En’kilah hasn’t made any significant innovations in centuries,” said Hadix scornfully.

“Oh? And what innovations have Kilah’kuk had to offer our kingdom over the past few centuries?”

“I wouldn’t remind you that it was one of our own that discovered the existence of the very continent you are standing on.”

“That hardly counts as anything more than luck. Innovations require skill and creativity.”

“If innovations require skill, then I suppose that explains why En’kilah has not produced any.”

Krivax ignored their argument as he waited for the receptionist to return. He had long since learned that Viziers were able to start an argument over the most innocuous of topics and had become accustomed to tuning them out.

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long before there was a knock on the door and Krivax was looking down at the tiny receptionist.

“The Council of Six is ready for you all if you’ll just come with me.”

Soon enough, the three Viziers were following behind the gnome as she led them up many flights of stairs as they ascended the Violet Citadel to eventually reach an innocuous-looking portal.

Seeing no reason to delay, Krivax offered a quick thanks to the receptionist and stepped into the portal. As soon as he shook off the momentary disorientation that always came with so quickly traveling to a new location, Krivax took a look at his surroundings and immediately knew that he was in the right location.

The Chamber of Air was a room without any visible walls, a gray stone floor with the symbol of the Kirin Tor etched into it, and a roof that looked like an open sky shifting rapidly as if time was sped up.

The various members of the Council of Six sat in comfortable chairs around the location where they had been teleported into, lacking the usual magical disguises they generally wore when meeting others. At first, the members of the Council had wanted to maintain their anonymity during the meeting, but Hadix had made it clear to Antonidas that he wasn’t interested in negotiating with mysterious faceless figures.

“Welcome, representatives of Azjol-Nerub, although we have already met, I think it's best if my colleagues introduce themselves before we begin this meeting,” said Antonidas, who was currently sitting directly to the front of them while offering them a gentle expression. The Grand Magus hadn’t argued about the matter for very long, so Krivax assumed that anonymity was not something he cared very much about right now.

“If I may, I would like to introduce myself first,” said the same elvish man that Krivax had seen yesterday during the duel. He exuded the same relaxed demeanor that Krivax had seen yesterday, and he was once again struck by the fact that this was the man who would go on to become a villain. “I am Kael’thas Sunstrider, crown prince of Quel’thalas. I must say, I was very impressed by your performance yesterday, Vizier Hadix. Arcanist Flametrail was an experienced opponent, yet you defeated him quite handily.”

“Your appreciation is noted, elf,” Hadix said dryly.

Krivax expected the prince to be annoyed by the lackluster reply, but he was surprised when Kael’thas’s expression became one of amusement instead.

“I believe such topics can wait until after we’ve finished discussing matters of actual importance,” said a middle-aged man with glassy eyes and a severe expression that made him look much more like a villain than Kael’thas. “I am Archmage Kel’thuzad. I look forward to working with your people and sharing knowledge that will benefit us all.”

Krivax knew that it wasn’t completely fair to judge a person based on their appearance or for things they have not yet done, but something about Kel’thuzad made him feel like he was looking at a dangerous person who wouldn’t mind dissecting him if he could get away with it.

“I suppose it’s my turn now,” said Archmage Runeweaver, who looked much the same as he did yesterday. “I apologize for my deception, but the knowledge of who is a member of the Council of Six is not something that is typically shared. Obviously, this is a rather unique situation.”

Krivax was a bit surprised to learn that he was a member of the Council, there was no way that he could have remembered such a minor character after all, but it made sense once he thought about it. It was in their interest to have one of their own be responsible for guiding them throughout the city and figuring them out in a less official capacity.

“I am Archmage Modera,” said the only female among the Council of Six, nodding toward them stoically as she introduced herself. “Your duel against Arcanist Flametrail was a masterful display of magical combat, and I look forward to working with you.”

Krivax didn’t know very much about her, other than the fact that she alone among those present would remain on the Council far into the future, surviving a lot that her colleagues did not… except maybe Runeweaver since he vaguely recalled him being on the Council in the future as well, but he wasn’t sure.

It was the last member that captured his complete attention, and both excited and worried him in equal measure since he now shared a room with a dragon, albeit one currently in a much smaller form.

Sitting next to Modera was another elvish man, though one with a slight build, delicate features, and silvery hair streaked with red. Archmage Krasus, otherwise known as Korialstrasz, future prime consort of the Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder and Aspect of the Red Dragonflight herself, was not a man who would blend easily into a crowd.

He was also the method through which Krivax intended to save Alexstrasza from being captured, so he couldn’t help but stare a little.

“I am Archmage Krasus,” said the elf who was secretly a dragon. “I have heard much about you all from my friends in Capital City, nerubians. I look forward to learning more about your people.”

Krivax was sure that he had heard about the nerubians from more than just a few friends in Capital City. After all, Wyrmrest Temple did reside on Northrend, and he was sure the dragons knew more about the nerubians than the people of the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Now that introductions have been made, let us move on to the first and most important topic of discussion,” said Antonidas, his tone taking on a seriousness that it lacked before. “The Magocracy of Dalaran would like to officially extend an invitation to the kingdom of Azjol-Nerub to send some of its citizens to learn in our city. This is an arrangement that would benefit both of our people greatly, and would allow for the exchange of ideas and knowledge and foster a peaceful relationship between us.”

“It would also grant you a significant amount of diplomatic legitimacy within the minds of the nations of these lands,” said Kel’thuzad, pointing out the pragmatic benefits. “Most nobles prefer to keep their heirs close, but more than a few of them send their less important children here to learn.”

“Archmage Kel’thuzad’s words are true… if distasteful,” Krasus said reluctantly. “The improvement of your reputation in Dalaran means the improvement of your reputation throughout the Eastern Kingdoms.”

“Phrase it however you like, it doesn’t change the fact that cooperation with Dalaran is entirely to their benefit,” Kel’thuzad responded while rolling his eyes.

“The exact details would need to be negotiated with the Circle of Viziers, but after seeing your city for myself, I’m sure they would be somewhat interested in your offer,” said Vizier Crinis, willing to speak up for the delegation now that they were talking about a topic that actually interested her. “However, if you truly wish for them to accept, there are a few ways that you could make the deal a little more… enticing. There are many who would view such a deal unfavorably due to the increased risk of outsiders learning our more valuable magics.”

At the Vizier’s words, Krivax mentally settled in for a long negotiation.

“Very well then,” said Antonidas, nodding as this was the result he was expecting all along. “In that case, let’s talk about the details.”

“If you were to offer us guarantees that all of your techniques in enchanting would be shared with our students, without exception, then I’m sure the Circle of Viziers would look at your offer much more favorably,” said Vizier Crinis, sounding for all the world as if the proposal she just gave was reasonable.

“Ha! How bold of you, Vizier Crinis,” said Kael’thas, chuckling in amusement. “Dalaran’s expertise in enchanting comes from Quel’thalas. Most of the city’s greatest enchanters are quel’dorei, who are given strict guidelines for what can be shared. Are you certain that you should be negotiating with Dalaran, and not us?”

“Given that you, the heir to your people's kingdom, are a member of Dalaran’s ruling council, I’m not sure that the distinction particularly matters in this case,” Crinis said sardonically. “It is entirely within your power to change those guidelines, presumably, and if only most of this city’s decent enchanters are elves, then that leaves some that are not.”

“Our mastery over enchanting is a skill that we have worked hard on to grow over thousands of years, so you must think us truly foolish if you believe that we would hand over such knowledge so easily,” said Kael’thas, pulling his gaze away from Crinis and turning his attention to Hadix. “Perhaps if you would be willing to share your knowledge of how to use geomancy with arcane magic, we could be persuaded to share a portion of what we know.”

“Hmph, not likely. While our mastery in geomancy is also something that we have grown over millennia, it is worth far more than learning how to make self-cleaning brooms,” Hadix said firmly.

“If not your geomancy, then Azjol-Nerub could also offer us information about Northrend,” said Krasus, acting to mediate between the two. “I was very interested when I heard that your people shared information about the dragons with scholars in Capital City, or maybe you might be more interested in agreeing to supply Dalaran with your people’s silk.”

The negotiations went on for quite some time, with each side doing its best to get the most favorable agreement that they could. As Krivax watched the discussions, he was suddenly very glad that Vizier Crinis had grown an interest in Dalaran and had decided to take over the bulk of the negotiations, and that nobody was expecting him to match wits with the Archmages.

That would have been an abject disaster.

Eventually, they settled on an agreement in which Azjol-Nerub would send students to learn magic in Dalaran, including some tutoring in quel’dorei enchanting. In exchange, Azjol-Nerub would send a few of its mages to offer lessons in geomancy and warding, with the understanding that they wouldn’t be sharing everything that they knew.

Valuable magical reagents that could only be found in the Eastern Kingdoms would be traded for nerubian silk and Northrend based reagents, although they would need to arrange for experts to properly value these items before they could agree on proportions.

Dalaran tried to argue for Azjol-Nerub to assist them in researching and exploring Northrend’s surface in exchange for a reciprocal agreement for the Eastern Kingdoms, but Crinis successfully argued that such an agreement would be lopsided. After all, the Eastern Kingdoms were well explored and there were many nations they could negotiate an agreement with if Azjol-Nerub found something they wanted to research.

The Council eventually sweetened the deal when Antonidas himself offered to assist Crinis in the creation of the portal to Northrend and pay for the costs associated with the ritual.

“Finally,” Krivax muttered under his breath. “I’m glad that’s done with.”

“Now that we’ve reached an agreement, all that’s left is to discuss the logistics of the matter,” said Antonidas.

Damn it…

What followed was a long discussion where they went over the logistical details of having nerubians stay in Dalaran to learn. Apparently, the nation that was sending their students would be expected to be the ones to fund their education. It made sense, the non-magical citizens of Dalaran would not exactly be happy if they were the ones being taxed to fund the education of foreigners.

This wasn’t a large issue for a nation like Azjol-Nerub, which almost had more resources than they knew what to do with.

They also discussed where the nerubians would be staying, given that they had much different body types and required significantly different living conditions compared to the other sapient races.

“Do you really believe it’s necessary for your people to have their own enclave like the elves do? I don’t disagree with you given the circumstances, but it would be quite the project,” said Modera, her expression thoughtful as she considered the issue.

“Our current accommodations are not nearly large enough to comfortably house members of the Queen or Spiderlord castes,” explained Hadix. “Besides, I’ve watched more than enough humans quiver at the sight of me to know how much our appearances unsettle you all. I’m curious about your resistance to the idea of us living in our own area.”

“Segregating you from the rest of the city is counterproductive to the goal of fostering connections between our people. I am not fond of Quel’thalas’ enclave either, although I recognize that this is for the best.” said Krasus, sounding reluctant “Still, Archmage Modera is correct to say that this will be a significant endeavor, especially if your people prefer to live underground.”

“It would be easier if we could hire workers from Ironforge,” said Runeweaver, sounding grim as he reminded everyone of the situation down south. “But given the circumstances…”

“With our assistance, that shouldn’t be much of an issue,” said Krivax, receiving a nod of agreement when he looked to his mentor. “The Jormungar make the construction of tunnels a simple matter.”

“Jormungar?”

“Enormous worm-like creatures with crystalline spines along their flanks that we use to dig out tunnels.”

“Ah…”

“With such creatures, it would indeed be much easier to dig the tunnels necessary to house our new students,” said Modera. “Although we would have to be careful about digging your tunnels into the Underbelly.”

“The… Underbelly?” questioned Crinis, her expression one of befuddlement.

“The Underbelly is an informal name for the city’s sewer system,” Kel’thuzad explained evenly. “It contains a growing slum, home to Dalaran’s less fortunate citizens, and is infested with giant rats, magical runoff from countless experiments, creatures that spawn from said runoff, and… goblins, who willingly choose to live there.”

Krivax was surprised to hear that the Underbelly was a real place. He remembered the area from the lore, but an underground sewer slum seemed like such a… ridiculous thing to exist in real life.

“If your sewers are infested with unwanted residents, then why haven’t you cleared them out?” Hadix asked curiously.

“We have, repeatedly, but as long as the conditions that created the Underbelly in the first place continue to exist, then it will simply continue to reform,” explained Runeweaver, audibly frustrated with the situation. “At this point, the Underbelly is large enough that if we were to dismantle it, the consequences would be significant. It’s simply easier to let it and those in it be, only occasionally sending exterminators down there when the vermin population grows too large and threatens to spill out onto the surface.”

That made both Viziers cringe at the plain inefficiency of it all, something Krivax agreed with but also knew not all societies were as 'structured' as Azjol-Nerub.

“One other matter that we’ve failed to touch upon is potential membership into the Kirin Tor,” said Antonidas, blatantly changing the subject. “There is much information we cannot share with those who are not members of the Kirin Tor, but such benefits come with significant responsibilities. Those that become members are expected to keep secrets, and while we would not expect anyone to act against the interests of their home nation, members of the Kirin Tor are expected to support Dalaran.”

“More specifically, Dalaran has pledged itself to assist the other nations in defeating the Horde, if they ever manage to actually stop arguing and form their little alliance,” said Kel’thuzad with a disapproving grunt. “Any of your people who join the Kirin Tor would be expected to assist in that goal.”

“Would any of your people be interested in such an arrangement?” asked Antonidas, staring directly at Hadix without any subtlety.

The Viziers glanced at each other with matching expressions of consideration before Crinis took the initiative to respond.

“That is something that the Circle of Viziers would need to discuss extensively,” said Crinis. “It would help if you were to fully explain the responsibilities that a member of the Kirin Tor would hold to your city.”

“Of course,” said Antonidas with an easygoing shrug. “Aside from the ones already mentioned, a member of the Kirin Tor would be expected to defend the city when it is attacked, perform certain administrative duties, and teach a certain amount of advanced magical classes per month. Naturally, those teaching sessions can be deferred if the individual provides progress reports of certain magical research.”

“Members of the Kirin Tor are expected to teach?” asked Krivax, unable to stop himself from glancing at Krasus.

“They are,” said Antonidas, glancing at Krivax curiously. “We have too few mages capable of teaching certain subjects, so such a system is a necessity. Why do you ask? Would you like to attend some of these lessons?”

“I would, Archmage Antonidas,” said Krivax, jumping at the opportunity. “My mentor is more than capable of teaching me what I need to know, but I would be a fool to turn down the opportunity to attend the lessons of such accomplished mages.”

More like I want to know when Krasus is teaching a lesson so that I can send a skitterer to stalk him and find out where he lives.

Krivax knew that Hadix wasn’t the type of teacher to get jealous, and would only approve of him seeking to learn more on his own, so he wasn’t concerned about his reaction.

“Very well,” said Antonidas, sounding amused by the blatant flattery. “I will arrange for you to be sent a schedule of the lessons, and be given permission to attend.”

After that, Antonidas turned his attention back to Crinis to continue his explanation of the duties of a member of the Kirin Tor. Once they were done, the Vizier nodded her understanding and promised to bring the matter to the Circle of Viziers.

Soon enough, they managed to finish discussing everything they could, and the negotiations were brought to an end. As he stepped back through the portal that would take him out of the Chamber of Air, Krivax couldn’t help but feel optimistic.

Not only had the delegation managed to negotiate a favorable agreement with another government, but Krivax had come across an opportunity to advance his personal goals.

Today was a productive day.

Chapter Text

Krivax huffed in frustration as he read through the letters scattered across his desk that had been sent to him from Capital City. He would much prefer it if the rest of the world would stay still while he spent his time enjoying himself in a magical city, but it seems fate was not so kind.

He could tell that events were slowly beginning to accelerate, and it wouldn’t be long before things started to happen very quickly.

There was some good news, such as the Weavers finishing their analysis of the Eastern Kingdom’s potential trade goods and discovering that Liferoot possessed potent and valuable alchemical properties, especially for healing potions, but most of the news was much less pleasant.

“What’s bothering you, Krivax?” asked Masruk, pulling his attention away from the history book he had been reading. “Has something happened in Capital City?”

With Hadix off sneaking about with his investigations and Crinis off making her final preparations together with Antonidas to create the portal that would allow the first wave of nerubians to enter Dalaran, Krivax had been left alone in their shared room.

Which meant that Masruk hadn’t hesitated to make himself comfortable and keep him company.

“Nothing has happened in Capital City,” said Krivax. “But the situation down south has gotten a lot worse.”

“What’s happening down south?” asked Masruk, closing his book after the conversation turned to a topic that interested him.

“It looks like the Horde has most likely begun their invasion of Khaz Modan,” said Krivax, his expression grim. “Trixie says that nobody is quite certain what’s going on, but communication has become unreliable and the most recent messages don’t leave room for optimism.”

“Does that mean the humans are finally preparing for war?” Masruk asked with excitement.

“No, they aren’t,” said Krivax, growing frustrated as he finished reading through Trixie’s letter. “The human kingdoms are paying close attention to the invasion, but both Alterac and Gilneas are still holding out.”

While Krivax already knew that the Alliance wouldn’t be formed until after the Horde conquered all of Khaz Modan aside from Ironforge and Gnomeregan, it was still extremely frustrating when dealing with it in real life. The war could have been over so much sooner if the human nations had confronted the Horde while the dwarves and the gnomes still had most of their strength.

The only thing that their hesitance would accomplish would be more unnecessary deaths. He could already tell that everyone would start scrambling after Khaz Modan finally fell.

“Cowards,” Masruk spat disdainfully. “The Horde has already proven themselves to be a threat, why aren’t the humans fighting them?”

“I don’t know for certain, but I assume it's a combination of greed and selfishness,” Krivax said as he put away the depressing letter and pulled out the next one. “Alterac is weak and has a hostile relationship with Stromgarde, if they lose too many soldiers during the war, then they risk being conquered after it’s over. I imagine they want to see how well Ironforge and Gnomeregan do against the Horde before they make any commitments, hoping that they can grind them down against their defenses.”

“And Gilneas?” Masruk asked after a moment of silent consideration. “Why are they so unwilling to cooperate with the other humans?”

Krivax took a moment to consider Masruk’s question.

If I remember correctly, the only reason given in the lore is that Greymane was just an arrogant fool who thought he didn’t need help.

“I don’t know,” Krivax said finally after failing to come up with an explanation. “From what we’ve been told, Gilneas has a fairly powerful military and defensible geography, they don’t really have the same worries as Alterac. I’ve read they are pretty isolationist, not unlike Azjol-Nerub. Maybe they think even if the Horde comes they can fight them off without help, although I don’t really understand enough about their politics to really give a good guess.”

“Hmm. You should go back to Capital City and convince them,” said Masruk, his tone completely serious.

Krivax turned to face his friend, completely befuddled.

“What makes you think I could succeed in convincing them when Lordaeron’s best diplomats have failed?” asked Krivax, curious about his friend's reasoning.

“You’re Krivax. You can convince the surface races about anything,” Masruk said confidently.

Krivax couldn’t help but simply stare at Masruk for a few moments in dumbfounded silence.

Oh, I get it.

“I’m glad you have so much confidence in me, buddy, but I don’t think I’d be able to do anything that Lordaeron’s diplomats couldn’t,” said Krivax, after taking a moment to compose himself. “The only reason I’ve been successful in getting people to do things is that the things I’ve been getting them to do were obviously in their own interest.”

Masruk huffed mulishly and muttered something under his breath, but didn’t bother arguing with him.

As Krivax read through the next letter, he wished he was actually as capable of convincing people to do what he wanted as Masruk thought he was; it would certainly make dealing with this newest issue easier.

It seems that the High King's order to discreetly evaluate how the kingdoms would react to the creation of a nerubian settlement was starting to show results. Diplomats from both Alterac and Stormwind had approached Anub’rekhan privately and expressed interest in perhaps ceding some of their lands for a certain price.

Normally this was the kind of development that Krivax would be more than happy to see… if it weren’t for the fact that Alterac’s deal was by far superior to Stormwinds.

The problem was that the current ruler of Alterac was Aiden Perenolde, a cowardly and opportunistic king who was only noteworthy in the lore for betraying the Alliance to the Horde, believing it was the best way to save his own kingdom. Krivax really didn’t want to know what such a person could end up doing if he managed to secure an alliance with a nation as powerful as Azjol-Nerub.

While Stormwind was offering more land than Alterac, they were also asking that Azjol-Nerub involve itself directly in the war, something Krivax knew the High King would not find appealing. Alterac, on the other hand, was willing to cede a portion of its lands for a certain amount of treasure and diplomatic guarantees that Azjol-Nerub not attack Alterac, or allow Stromgarde to pass through their territory.

Their mountains would make prime nest-city locations, likely had resources that could be mined out easily by nerubians hands that Alterac would be the first to benefit from, and having a powerful empire sitting in front of the kingdom would seriously discourage Stromgarde’s usual skirmishes with them if not outright stop them.

It didn’t help that Alterac was situated in a location that could very well become a crossroads for trade between the various kingdoms if properly exploited

Krivax wished that he had a way to convince the leadership to go with Stormwind, but he knew that there was little he could do. Although he was the one responsible for leading the nerubians to the Eastern Kingdoms, Krivax was starting to feel more and more like he was caught up in a tide of events that he couldn’t control.

It really made him once again hope that everyone would just stop doing things and allow him to enjoy his time in Dalaran.

As if to emphasize the foolishness of that hope, the sudden sound of someone knocking loudly on the door caused Krivax to let out an exasperated sigh. Ever since the duel, there had been random mages trying to meet up with Hadix for one reason or another. Normally, Hadix just sent them running with a threatening display of his magic, but he wasn’t here right now so Krivax would have to be the one to deal with it.

With a short glance at Masruk, the two of them silently made their way to the door and opened it, revealing an elvish woman waiting on the other side. Krivax stepped out into the courtyard outside their lodgings, forcing the woman back, and closed the door behind him as soon as Masruk stepped out.

Krivax didn’t know who the woman was, but he couldn’t allow anyone outside of the delegation to notice that Hadix wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

“Can I help you?” Krivax asked the woman, who was sputtering in outrage after being pushed out of the way.

The woman seemed to take a moment to compose herself before speaking, “Yes, I suppose you can. Are you Vizier Hadix?”

“No, I am Vizier Kirvax, student of Vizier Hadix. He is very busy right now and has asked that nothing disturb him short of the Council of Six themselves,” Krivax said while making a show of looking the elf over. “And you are not one of them.”

“I’ll have you know I am Mirveda Summerfall, apprentice to Magistrix Landra Dawnstrider, and I come on important business!” said the elf, puffing herself up in anger at the slight.

“Are you here as a representative of Quel’thalas?” Krivax asked tiredly, already knowing the answer.

“Well… no. I here represe—”

“Then I’m afraid, apprentice, that Vizier Hadix is not very interested in speaking with you at this time,” Krivax said firmly, already turning away to head back inside. He had enough experience dealing with situations like this by now that he knew politeness would not get him very far.

Unfortunately, Apprentice Summerfall was a little braver than most and didn’t hesitate to grab onto his robe to stop him from leaving. Krivax noticed Masruk bristle and reach for his weapon, but he quickly called off his friend with a gesture

“This is a matter of the utmost importance!”

Krivax relented and listened to what the elf had to say, and was unsurprised to find that it was not actually a matter of the utmost importance.

Apparently, Magistrix Dawnstrider had been so impressed by Hadix’s magic that she was offering to pay the Vizier if he taught her what he knew. However, after listening for a few moments, Krivax knew that nothing that the Magistrix had to offer was worth Hadix’s time.

It was just about when the Apprentice was starting to tell him about how much of an ‘opportunity’ this was for them to receive the backing of someone as important as Magistrix Dawnstrider that Krivax had enough.

“As I said before, Vizier Hadix does not wish to be disturbed,” said Krivax, removing the elf’s grip from his robes. “Please leave.”

“Excuse me?! I won’t be leaving until I spea—”

“You will leave, or you will be removed,” said Masruk, gripping onto his spear and moving threateningly.

Like most sane people, Apprentice Summerfall faltered when confronted with a giant, fully armored spiderperson, but seemed to be gathering her courage when their confrontation was interrupted by the opening of the door behind Krivax.

“You heard him, elf. Leave,” said Vizier Hadix, sounding extremely annoyed with the situation.

“Vizier Hadix, I presume?” asked the elf, completely ignoring the Vizier’s tone of voice. It was an impressive display of her lack of self-preservation. “Well met, I am Mirve—”

“I will not repeat myself,” said Hadix, the magic around him beginning to grow agitated in a display that promised violence if the elf didn’t leave immediately.

That seemed to be enough to get through to her because after a soft whimper of fear, she quickly made herself scarce.

“Leave us, Neophyte Masruk,” said Hadix, turning to retreat back into the room.

Krivax assumed that Hadix probably wanted to talk about the results of his investigation, so he quickly followed the Vizier after giving a short goodbye to Masruk, closing the door behind him. It didn’t take long for Krivax to realize that the Vizier was agitated by more than too persistent elves.

“Vizier Hadix, is everything alright?” asked Krivax, growing increasingly concerned as he watched his mentor pace back and forth in the room.

“I have not yet found confirmation, but I’m starting to believe that the higher-ranking members of the Kirin Tor are well aware of the Void,” said Hadix, continuing to pace as he explained the situation. “I’ve even begun to suspect that one of their members, a mage by the name of Ur, is actively practicing Void magic in the city.”

Krivax wasn’t particularly surprised to hear that; he was already aware from the lore that the mages of Dalaran sometimes practiced less reputable magic in secret, even if he didn’t remember specific names.

“What are we going to do about it?” asked Krivax, doing his best to feign surprise. Thankfully, Hadix was too agitated to notice.

“I don’t know yet,” admitted Hadix, ending his rapid pacing as he took on a thoughtful expression. “It’s obvious to me that the Order will need to establish a permanent presence in the Eastern Kingdoms. We’ll also need to send some of our own people to join the Kirin Tor as quickly as possible so that we can continuously monitor the city for the Void’s corruption.”

“Then… wouldn’t it be best if you joined them yourself?” asked Krivax, suggesting the solution that seemed the most obvious to him. It made him uneasy to see his normally stoic mentor so agitated, so he was glad that the Vizier was beginning to calm down.

He must really hate the Void…

“No. My time and skills are too valuable for me to be wasted on something like that,” Hadix said matter-of-factly. “Besides, the Order was wise enough to include some of its own members within the initial group coming to Dalaran. After the portal is opened and I am provided assistance from my colleagues, it won’t be long before I can finish my investigation, although there are still portions of the city that I won’t be able to easily access.”

“Really?” Krivax asked in surprise. “Isn’t Dalaran’s warding much worse than ours?”

It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did that there were places in the city that Hadix couldn’t access, but he had seen for himself some of the spells that the Order had developed to sneak around in the spellbook that Hadix had given him. They were very good at going places where they didn’t belong and remaining unnoticed while they did so.

That coupled with Hadix’s personal strength had resulted in Krivax beginning to believe that nothing could stop his mentor from going wherever he wanted.

“The wards protecting the Grand Library are connected directly to the city’s leyline nexus,” explained Hadix, hissing softly in frustration. “Even if their wards are far inferior to our own, it’s nearly impossible to bypass wards connected to such vast amounts of arcane energies, especially unnoticed.”

Krivax silently watched his mentor for several moments as the Vizier started muttering to himself, seemingly losing himself in his thoughts.

“There’s no need for us to make any decisions right now, Vizier Hadix,” said Krivax when it became obvious Hadix wouldn’t continue the conversation without prompting. “We still have some time before the delegation needs to return to Capital City. Our presence will be needed to help the enclave establish itself in Dalaran; there aren’t very many nerubians who speak Common after all.”

Krivax wasn’t looking forward to spending more time resolving cultural misunderstandings, but it certainly was convenient that their part of the delegation would be staying in the city for a while longer. It meant that Krivax was confident that he would have enough time to handle his personal goals before he left.

According to the schedule that Antonidas had given him, Krasus wouldn’t be scheduled to teach a class for at least a few more weeks.

“Hmph. You may be correct,” Hadix admitted grudgingly. “I should have enough time to conclude my investigation before we leave and present my findings to the Order. My instincts tell me that these people are hiding something important, so I’ll be recommending that the Order makes investigating the Kirin Tor a priority.”

Oh, Vizier Hadix, you have no idea.

Krivax hoped that he would be there to see Hadix’s reaction once he learned about the Burning Legion, a force that was just as much of a threat as the Old Gods. It would be nice when he wasn’t the only one in the room quietly freaking out about the constant world-ending threats facing Azeroth.

“For now, we should begin making our way to Vizier Crinis,” said Hadix, turning to face him for the first time since the conversation began. “I’ve recently received word that they are prepared to open the portal. Our presence is necessary to translate for those who do not speak Common.”

“Of course,” said Krivax, nodding eagerly and already moving toward the door. “Let’s start making our way there now.”

Even if he knew it was going to cause him many headaches in the future, it would be nice to have more nerubians in Dalaran and to start constructing their enclave. After living in Azjol-Nerub for so long it was hard for him to get used to living back above ground.

It didn’t take long for the two Viziers and their Warrior escort to make their way through the streets of Dalaran and reach their destination, a heavily guarded building near the city’s main guard house.

Even if it weren’t for the two guardsmen wearing complete sets of enchanted armor and standing by the entrance to the building, Krivax would be able to tell that the building was important simply by the dense array of wards covering every inch of it.

It wasn’t a surprise to him that Dalaran was taking the security of the location so seriously, given this is where they would be opening up a portal to a powerful empire that they knew little about.

The only reason why they would even consider such a thing is because they had absolute confidence in their ability to ensure their city’s safety, and the guards and the wards were a part of that.

Vizier Hadix didn’t seem to share his interest in the building’s security and smoothly walked past the guards without any hesitation, forcing Krivax to quickly follow behind him.

Obviously, there wasn’t much need to show identification.

As Krivax followed Hadix through the twisting and heavily guarded hallways, it became obvious to him that this wasn’t the Vizier’s first time in the building. Soon enough, Krivax followed his mentor through yet another nondescript hallway only to find himself in a massive chamber positively glowing with arcane energies.

Vizier Crinis could be seen standing in the chamber’s center speaking with Archmage Antonidas as the two of them gestured to the arcane glyphs spread out across the floor. Several teams of mages were busy looking over a complex series of wards that were constructed around what Krivax assumed would be the actual portal site.

“Vizier Hadix! Good, you’re here,” called out Vizier Crinis from across the room as soon as she caught sight of them. “Please tell this human that this portion of the ritual is completely unnecessary. His paranoia is going to make this portal far less efficient than it could be. Why would we need to go to such excessive lengths to diffuse the portal’s ambient arcane energy?”

“I understand things might be different where you come from, but this city has regulations about how much arcane energies can be legally permitted in such a small area,” Antonidas said calmly.

“So you’ve said, but you’ve refused to explain the reason for the regulations, no matter how many times I’ve asked!” said Crinis, raising her voice in frustration.

“Then perhaps you should stop asking,” said Antonidas, allowing a hint of annoyance to enter his voice. “You do not need to understand all of our laws, you simply need to obey them. The ritual will work fine, despite these modifications.”

Krivax watched from the side as Hadix examined the portion of the glyphs in question before glancing at Antonidas. Krivax knew that he was probably the only one in the room who knew Hadix well enough to see the hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“This is not our city, Vizier Crinis,” Hadix said finally after a long moment of silence. “If Archmage Antonidas insists on this modification, then we will obey his wishes.“

“Ugh. Very well,” said Crinis, her anger seeming to deflate once she realized that her colleague would not be supporting her. “We’ll use the human’s inefficient spell formula.”

From there everything seemed to move very quickly as the mages prepared for the opening of the portal. Krivax watched as Antonidas personally verified the functionality of each set of wards before double-checking the arcane glyph for any flaws.

Feeling curious about the portal's security system, Krivax didn’t hesitate to ask Hadix about it.

“There is no single security system for me to point out to you,” Hadix explained patiently. “Dalaran is using multiple layers of defense to protect the portal from being used unauthorized, and only a few of them can be seen from here. I’m sure many of their defense mechanisms are secrets known only to the upper echelons of their government.”

“Well, what can you see from here?” Krivax asked curiously.

Hadix seemed to ponder the question for a moment before pointing out a specific portion of the glyph.

“There. That portion of the spell determines where the portal opens up to. Do you notice anything different about it, Krivax?” asked Hadix in the same tone of voice he used whenever he was teaching his student.

Krivax stared at the portion that Hadix pointed out for several moments before he realized what he was supposed to notice.

“It's not using the leyline as a power source,” said Krivax, amazed that they were able to connect different portions of the same spell to different sources of magic.

“Correct, it’s likely that the source of magic that maintains that portion of the spell is kept in a secret, heavily guarded location. If it were ever destroyed, then anyone who attempted to use the portal would find themselves in an unpredictable location, assuming they survived.”

Hadix spent the next few minutes pointing out various security measures, including a ward that would allow a mage to scry a small area on the other side of the portal and a ward that would prevent anyone from passing through unless it was lowered.

He would have kept going, but the Vizier ended his explanation when it looked like they were ready to begin opening the portal.

“You won’t find anything, human,” Crinis said smugly. “When it comes to spatial magic, my work is impeccable.”

“One can never be too sure,” said Antonidas, turning his attention away from the glyph and focusing on one of his mages. “Magus Sparklecrank, has the leyline’s throughput remained steady?”

“Yes, Archmage,” said an elderly male gnome.

“And the levels of atmospheric arcane energy?”

“Within acceptable parameters, Archmage.”

“Very well then,” said Antonidas as he approached the designated portal location. “I will begin opening the portal. Everyone else, begin making preparations to welcome our guests.”

With that said, Antonidas gripped his staff tightly and didn’t waste any time to begin casting the spell. Arcane magic immediately poured out of the man at levels that Krivax had never seen before; he was certain even the most magically incapable person would be able to sense the Grand Magus’s magic.

It didn’t take very long before the entire room was glowing brightly with violet light, and a large tear in the very fabric of space was ripping open in the center of the room.

As soon as the portal finished forming, the chamber quickly became a hive of activity.

“Wards are functional!”

“Attempts to scry the other side of the portal have been successful. One individual is attempting to use the portal. Individual matches the description of Warrior Cral’ral.”

“Understood. Warrior Cral’ral is on the pre-approved list. Permitting entry!”

Krivax watched in satisfaction as the first nerubian stepped through a portal from Northrend to the Eastern Kingdoms.

One-by-one, nerubians were evaluated via scrying and permitted entry into Dalaran. Krivax did his best to translate between the guards and the arriving nerubians as they did their best to organize everyone.

It would have been nice if someone had remembered to cast a translation spell on the room.

Fortunately, it didn’t take very long for them to reach the last nerubian on the list and his very large partner.

“Two individuals are attempting to use the portal! Individuals match the description of Worm Handler Crut’zok and a… jormungar.”

“Understood. Worm Handler Crut’zok and his jormungar are on the pre-approved list. Permitting entry!”

While the nerubian that stepped through the portal was not visibly different from any other baseline nerubian, the creature that followed behind him was enough to command the attention of every mage in the room.

Slithering its way through the portal was an absolutely massive worm-like creature with rows of chisel-like teeth, a flattened, muscular body, and crystalline spines along its flanks. The jormungar was easily larger than a Spiderlord, and Antonidas was quickly forced to expand the size of the room with magic to accommodate the creature.

Every single mage in the room had stopped what they were doing to watch in astonishment as the jormungar finished passing through the portal.

“Well then,” said Antonidas, sounding uncharacteristically shocked. “I had thought that you were exaggerating the size of these creatures, but I can see now that you were not. Although I fail to see how such a massive creature will safely make its way through the building.”

Everyone who heard that took a moment to glance at each other awkwardly before staring pointedly at the Grand Magus.

Antonidas merely let out an aggrieved sigh before pointing his staff toward the hallway and getting to work.

Maybe a shrinking or polymorph spell would be easier? Krivax couldn’t help but think for a moment before quickly brushing it off.

Still, if nothing else the arrival of the jormungar would help speed up construction of the nerubian enclave, and become Azjol-Nerub’s first settlement outside of Northrend.

It was a good start and something to be proud of. It was his own efforts that had made this possible and now all he needed to worry about were the… several other matters that he needed to deal with…

I’m starting to think that what they say is true… the only reward for work well done really is just more work…

Krivax had a gut feeling that things were soon about to become very busy.

Chapter Text

“And here is the cavern that the enclave intends to use for storing food,” said Krivax, gesturing towards a massive cavern completely covered with insect-filled webs. While neither Lordaeron nor Dalaran had a shortage of delicious shellfish, it was nice to have access to the insects he’d grown used to over the past few years.

Krivax turned to look at the two individuals who Dalaran had sent to evaluate the enclave's ongoing construction.

“I see,” said the city’s guard captain, a middle-aged human man. “This is really impressive. It’s hard to imagine such large tunnels were dug out in just a month.”

“Quite,” said his mage companion, an elvish woman responsible for evaluating the nerubian’s magical defenses. “The wards are very well constructed as well, and fall within the agreed upon regulations.”

While Dalaran didn’t mind giving the nerubians their own portion of the city to live in—the high elves already did after all—there were obvious limits to what they could and could not do, which included the construction of certain wards. After all, the first priority of any government would always be its own safety.

“Of course, Magistrix Autumnsinger,” Krivax said diplomatically. “Every part of the enclave's construction falls well within the regulations we agreed upon with the Council of Six.”

That wasn’t even a lie, thankfully. Azjol-Nerub was not currently interested in invading Dalaran and was more than willing to honor the agreements it made… so long as doing so remained in their best interest.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said the elvish woman, turning to send an uncomfortable glance at a skitterer as it passed them by. “Have there been any difficulties building the tunnels around the Underbelly?”

“No, we haven’t had any problems with that,” Krivax said truthfully as he began walking down the cavern to continue their tour. “We sent a few of our warriors to properly map out the Underbelly and Worm Handler Crut’zok has done a good job directing the jormungar away from its tunnels. Our people have more than enough experience in such matters, so there’s no need to worry.”

After the first time there was an accident caused by Dalaran’s map of the Underbelly not being completely accurate—something which was blamed on the slum’s residents ‘illegal tunneling and expansion’—the delegation had decided to scout out the sewer’s tunnels themselves. Krivax hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of the situation by asking Masruk to learn as much as he could about the slum’s residents, and more specifically the local goblins.

Krivax was hoping to find someone willing to do some… discreet work for the right price.

Although he had been willing to act more patiently before while Azjol-Nerub solidified its diplomatic ties and he gradually increased his own magical ability, the signs that the Second War was close to entering full swing grew larger and larger by the day. Communication with Khaz Modan was nearly nonexistent by this point, and people were expecting to hear news of refugees fleeing north across the Thandol Span at any moment.

All of this meant that Krivax would need to make preparations if he intended to interfere proactively in the war.

The rest of the tour went fairly well, with Krivax showing them every part of the tunnels, including the various sleeping quarters separated by caste, a cavern filled with half-constructed structures which would eventually serve as a site for magical experimentation, a cavern just for the jormungar and other nerubian beasts. and an exclusive area meant to hold the enclave’s local queen and possibly a few…experimental eggs.

There were also some more mundane sections such as the main government building representing Azjol-Nerub and a guest area for those non-nerubians who choose to stay overnight in the enclave.

There were likely lots of little things he was missing too, but he didn’t know the ins and outs of every single room in the enclave; that would be up to those living and working here.

The tunnels running throughout the enclave were lined with arcane lights and glowing fungi for light, along with webs made of silk more solid and inflexible than what Krivax was used to in Azjol-Nerub. This was mostly for the convenience of their non-nerubian guests, who would have found it much more difficult to walk on the silk they usually used. Not to mention the need to make use of fewer non-vertical surfaces since non-nerubians couldn’t easily just climb a wall or ceiling to get around.

Eventually, they reached the last part of their tour, which was a large cavern that would eventually house the enclave’s ziggurat. However, there wasn’t much to see yet, with only a few Weavers and skitterers laying down the building's foundation.

It didn’t take very long after that before Krivax was waving goodbye to the two inspectors, who were both more than eager to leave the subterranean enclave the moment their work was concluded.

As soon as they were gone, Krivax allowed himself to relax and let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been wrong to assume that his days were going to grow busier after the opening of the portal to En’kilah, but things had gone surprisingly well so far and Krivax couldn’t help but feel glad.

Just as he was about to return to his room to reward himself by snacking on a particularly delicious breed of scorpion native to the Howling Fjord, Krivax was suddenly interrupted by a nervous voice coming from behind him, “Vizier Krivax?”

Turning quickly at the sound of his name, Krivax relaxed when he saw that it was just one of the Initiates sent by the Circle to learn in Dalaran.

“Yes, Initiate Selmet? How can I help you?” asked Krivax.

“I would like to request your assistance in finding the classroom for my scheduled lesson,” said Initiate Selmet as he fidgeted nervously.

Krivax knew that most Viziers would never deign to assist an Initiate with something so small, but he had gained a certain reputation for being… different.

“You’ve been in Dalaran for a while now, why are you still having trouble finding your classes?” Krivax asked patiently.

“I find it difficult to adjust to the surface,” said Selmet after a moment of hesitant silence. “The layout of their city makes no sense to me, and the sun and the sky can be… overwhelming.”

That was a feeling common to many of the nerubians who had no experience with the surface, much of the delegation was the same at first even though they got over it fast, so Krivax found it hard to blame the Initiate. After all, he knew more than most that getting used to a new situation drastically different from what you were used to before was not easy.

“Of course, Initiate,” said Krivax in his best ‘patient mentor voice,’ ignoring the fact that the Initiate was likely biologically older than him and had probably been studying magic for longer than him as well. “I was just about to start making my way to Runeweave Square anyway, so you’re welcome to join me.”

That was a lie, but he should probably actually start making his way there given that Krasus’ lesson in Advanced Polymorphic Transmutation was scheduled to start soon. Aside from the lesson being an excellent opportunity for him to stalk Krasus back to his lair, he was also quite interested in listening to the Archmage’s lesson itself.

Dragons possessed a natural talent for shapeshifting magic, so Krivax wouldn’t be surprised if Krasus knew more about the subject than anyone else in the city.

With a relieved nod, Selmet skittered to his side and the two of them began making their way up into Dalaran, the surface entrance to the enclave being located near the edge of the city proper. As Krivax led the Initiate to Runeweave Square, he glanced at the surrounding pedestrians and felt a hint of wonder at how quickly the people of Dalaran were growing used to the giant spider people among them. Most still gave a short stare and shared some quiet whispers when they saw them, but it was growing less and less each day as they simply became a regular sight in the city.

It didn’t take very long before Krivax was ushering the Initiate into a classroom in which an elvish mage was giving an introductory lecture on enchanting. Many of the students turned to stare at them, but Krivax ignored them as he waved Selmet goodbye and left to begin making his way to the portion of Runeweaver Square dedicated to more advanced lessons.

Let's see… Advanced Elemental Abjuration, Foundational Construct Conjuration, Tangible Illusion Construction… Ah! Advanced Polymorphic Transmutation by Archmage Krasus Cinderdepth.

Krivax paused for a moment as he realized that this was the first time he ever read anything about Krasus having a surname. It wasn’t something that he had ever thought about before, simply assuming that the people who wrote Warcraft’s lore were too lazy to give last names to all of their characters, but it stood out to him now that it had been brought to his attention.

Does Antonidas have a last name? Does Kel’thuzad? I know Kael’thas and Ansirem have last names… but does everyone else? Is this just some kind of weird mage thing?

Krivax forcibly pushed these thoughts away and stepped into the classroom, he could always look into it later when he had the time.

While most of the previous classrooms he had seen in Dalaran reminded him of some of the lecture halls he’d seen during college, this one was much smaller in comparison, likely due to the smaller number of mages attending the advanced class.

The students themselves seemed older and more mature than the ones he had seen in Arcanist Flametrail’s class or any of the introductory classes he’d seen over the past month. Several of them were likely fully-fledged mages who were simply looking to learn a new skill from an Archmage.

Under the assessing gazes of said mages, Krivax found himself a convenient spot near the back of the classroom and folded his legs under himself as he sat down. It seemed that nobody had remembered to prepare a cushion for the classroom, and none of the chairs were built to accommodate a nerubian.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long before the dragon that he wanted to see came walking into the classroom and immediately began drawing out two different arcane glyphs on the board at the front of the class. Unlike runes, arcane glyphs generally served as a visual representation of a particular piece of spellcraft and did not possess any power on their own.

Krivax had studied enough transmutation to know that these particular glyphs represented two similar spells related to the polymorph spell, although he was having trouble understanding the differences between the two.

Krasus very quickly finished drawing the two glyphs and turned to address the classroom, nodding an acknowledgment to Krivax before beginning his lecture.

“One of the most difficult challenges mages have when delving into advanced polymorphic transmutations is understanding the difference between polymorphing themselves and polymorphing an external entity,” began Krasus, his voice easily carrying throughout the room. “All of you should understand the four regulations regarding polymorphic magic.”

Krasus paused for a moment before directing his gaze to a dwarvish man, one of the few that Krivax had seen studying magic in Dalaran.

“Mage Tymor, name these four regulations,” said Krasus, causing everyone to turn their attention to the dwarf.

“Y-yes, Archmage,” said the dwarf, obviously nervous at being the center of attention. “The four regulations are the following; do not turn a creature of lesser intelligence into a creature of higher intelligence, only use pre-approved creatures for polymorphs, do not polymorph inanimate objects, and never polymorph anything that is halfway through a portal.”

“Correct,” said Krasus, returning his focus back to the rest of the class, much to the dwarf’s relief. “Those of you who are more perceptive will note that three of these four regulations are a result of the natural differences between the minds of different creatures or entities, which naturally causes significant difficulties when attempting to transform one entity into another. I’m sure many of you are familiar with the infamous ‘mur-elf’ incident if you wish for an example of what might happen as a result of these difficulties.”

At Krasus’s words, a collective shudder passed through the gathered mages. Krivax wasn’t sure what the ‘infamous mur-elf incident’ was, but he could guess by the name and immediately felt more cautious about experimenting with such magic.

“To be able to safely polymorph oneself necessitates the ability to account for such differences,” said Krasus, ignoring the discomfort of the students. “And a mage capable of doing so is naturally also able to ignore these regulations.”

With that said, Krasus didn’t hesitate to give a demonstration by casting a spell on the piece of chalk in his hand, immediately transforming it into a large snake that began slithering its way up the Archmage’s arm.

“Learning how to account for these differences will not be enough if you wish to change your form at will, but it is an important first step,” said Krasus, turning the snake back into a piece of chalk with a wave of his hand, much to the amazement of the gathered mages. “Today, I will teach you what you need to know to take this step if you have the drive to do so.”

He listened to the lecture with interest as the Archmage explained aspects of transmutation that Krivax had never thought of before.

He knew that the ability to mimic the dragon's natural shapeshift was still far from reach, but Krivax couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he could easily change his form. He was never the kind of person to dwell on things outside of his control, which was why he put so much effort into adjusting himself to his new body instead of wasting his time mourning his lost humanity.

Even back when he had been Sam instead of Krivax, he had always been more of a go-with-the-flow kind of guy.

However, being confronted with the possibility that he might be able to change his form sometime in the future made him feel more than a little conflicted.

He didn’t mind being a giant spider person, he even found the fact that he had four arms to be extremely convenient! But… it would be nice to have the ability to shift into a human form every once in a while, at least just so that he could remember what it felt like.

Although listening to this lecture, I get the feeling that I’m probably not going to be at that level anytime soon, Krivax thought self-deprecatingly.

He decided to push his troublesome thoughts away before he gave himself a case of species dysmorphia.

Krivax listened to the rest of the lecture with rapt attention, making careful notes of things that didn’t understand for him to ask Hadix about later. Krasus proved himself to be an able and patient teacher, answering every question asked with clarity. He also gave plenty of warnings about the dangers of experimenting with transmutation magic without proper guidance and shared examples of things that had happened to mages who didn’t heed those warnings.

Krivax had no idea why anyone would think that it was a good idea to turn themselves into a chair of all things. Sometimes it seemed like mages just had a tendency to make really… ridiculous decisions.

I really hope I don’t end up like that, thought Krivax as he tried to banish the image of a meat chair from his mind.

The lesson went on for nearly two hours before the Archmage declared it over, causing the gathered mages to begin packing up their things and start making their way to the door.

Krivax was just about to follow their lead and begin making preparations for his dragon-stalking adventure when he was interrupted by the sound of said dragon calling his name.

“Vizier Krivax, if you wouldn’t mind sparing a moment of your time, there’s a matter that I wish to discuss with you.”

“Yes, Archmage? How can I help you?” Krivax asked nervously after approaching the dragon, surprised that he wanted to speak with him.

Does he know something? Krivax wondered, quickly examining his mental shields for any signs of intrusion. He knew that it was irrational, but he couldn’t help but worry that Archmage somehow knew what he was planning.

“Thank you for staying behind, Vizier Krivax,” Krasus said kindly, offering him a polite smile. “I just wanted to take the opportunity to ask again about your delegation’s intentions to share more information about Northrend.”

Krivax felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he realized that the dragon just wanted to probe him again about what information they intended to share with the Eastern Kingdoms. He most likely wanted to know how much Azjol-Nerub knew about the dragons and Wyrmrest Temple.

“While I’m afraid that I can’t personally share much about Northrend yet, I can tell you that Azjol-Nerub intends to share more information soon,” Krivax said truthfully.

“Oh? On what topic?” asked Krasus, the picture of polite curiosity.

If Krivax didn’t know that this was a topic that the Archmage had a personal interest in, he would almost certainly have believed that he was only mildly curious.

“High King Anub’arak has given our delegation permission to explain why we have forbidden entry to certain portions of Northrend’s surface,” said Krivax, causing the tiny amount of tension that had entered the dragon’s expression to dissipate.

Azjol-Nerub had finally secured the vrykul’s resting places enough that even the most conservative of nerubians found there to be little threat in sharing information about them with the humans.

“I’m sure many of our scholars will be glad to hear that. Some of them have been very… enthusiastic in their speculation,” said Krasus, chuckling softly. “When do you intend to share that information?”

“We haven’t really decided the best time to do so, but I imagine it will be sometime soon,” said Krivax. “There’s no particular reason to wait after all.”

“That’s certainly true. Do you have intentions of sharing before you leave Dalaran? If the information is important enough to require the approval of your High King before you can share it, then I imagine it must be quite interesting,” said Krasus enthusiastically. “I admit, I’m looking forward to seeing how the scholars react to what you wish to share.”

Krivax knew that he probably was looking forward to it, especially since the dragon likely already knew that they intended to share information about the vrykul.

“I can bring the suggestion forward to the rest of the delegation, Archmage, but we haven’t made a decision yet on the topic.”

“I appreciate it, but there's no need to go out of your way to indulge me for such a small thing,” said Krasus, shaking his head and smiling at him with good nature before quickly changing the subject. “How did you enjoy my lessons? Did you have any problems understanding anything?”

At the Archmage’s question, Krivax’s expression immediately lit up and he quickly retrieved his notebook from his spatial bag, “Actually, yes there were. If you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions, there are a few things that I could use some help understanding.”

“Of course,” said Krasus, smiling gently. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Krivax didn’t hesitate to question the Archmage about everything that confused him about transmutation. Krasus was just as patient answering his questions in a private setting as he was during the lecture, and Krivax could feel his admiration for the dragon grow the longer he spoke with him.

A part of him wanted to just come out and tell Krasus everything that he knew about Deathwing and the many threats that Azeroth would face in the future, but Krivax knew that he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do so.

Even if Krivax considered himself to be a relatively kind and empathetic person, he knew that he was not a trusting one.

It had taken him several years before he had even considered sharing his metaknowledge with his closest friend, so there wasn’t much chance of him spilling his guts to a relative stranger. Even as kind as Krasus seemed to be, Krivax simply didn’t know him well enough to extend that kind of trust if other options were available to him.

But as long as Khaz Modan had still not yet fallen and Alexstrasza was not in immediate danger, he still felt like he had enough time to share information with Krasus in a way that would hide his identity.

Was it paranoia? Most likely, but considering how he was technically a part of a secret organization that had hidden in the shadows for thousands of years that is probably a good quality to have.

“Are you sure that there’s nothing else you need me to explain?” asked Krasus after Krivax finished running through every question written down in his notebook.

“Yes, Archmage,” Krivax said gratefully. “Thank you for your time. This has done a lot to help me understand some of the more difficult parts of the polymorph spell.”

And it was true. Although Krivax had already had a bit of success in learning how to cast polymorph, the spell was incredibly nuanced and there was a lot about it that he still had to learn.

“I’m glad that I could be of assistance,” said Krasus. “Your people have done a lot to breathe a breath of fresh air into this city. For many reasons, Dalaran has a tendency to stagnate, so the introduction of new magic and ideas into the city is far more valuable than a few moments of my time.”

Krivax thanked the man again for his time and began making his way out of the classroom while checking through his telepathic connection that the flyer he had brought with him to Runeweaver Square was still where he left it.

Back during the conversation that he had with Hadix right before his first meeting with Trixie in Moa’ki Harbor, the Vizier had mentioned that a flyer had been surveilling the village for signs of visitors from the Eastern Kingdom. At the time, Krivax had wondered how the Vizier had been able to find out what the flyer saw so quickly, but he had saved his questions until later.

He didn’t get a straight answer on the matter until after he officially joined the Order and learned exactly what magic they had used.

Krivax didn’t pause as he cast the spell which would split a part of his mind to look through the perspective of the flyer hiding on top of one of the roofs in Runeweaver Square, waiting for Krasus to appear. Aside from being relatively small and hard to spot, the flyer was also being hidden from notice by a lesser version of the same spell that Hadix usually used to sneak around, an Abjuration based spell that caused people not to pay attention to things under its notice.

Given that it was a spell cast by Krivax, it would naturally not do much against a mage as powerful as Krasus if he was being vigilant, but it didn’t need to. All it needed to do was make sure that none of the other pedestrians noticed the flyer as it followed the dragon back to his lair.

Krasus had no reason to be particularly worried that someone would be following him, so as long as nobody was pointing and screaming at the flying spider bat, then it was unlikely that he would notice a thing.

Krivax calmly started walking back to the enclave as the flyer began stalking the dragon once he left the classroom.

It would really make my life much easier if an Archmage’s address was public information. Please just go home, Mr. Dragon. I really don’t want to follow you all day as you do your chores.

As Krasus failed to make his way to the residential area and instead started heading to the section of the city that held the Violet Citadel, Krivax felt his hopes start to fall.

The Archmage did indeed go to several locations that were obviously not his home as Krivax immediately isolated himself in his room the moment he reached the enclave.

At least the magic is doing its job.

A part of him had expected to immediately fail, resulting in him being confronted by an angry dragon wizard, but Krasus had not shown any signs of noticing that he was being followed.

Of course, that didn’t exactly guarantee that the dragon hadn’t actually noticed, but Krivax was choosing to be optimistic.

The flyer continued to follow Krasus for the next thirty minutes until he eventually reached a nondescript house near the edge of the district. Feeling curious, Krivax extended his magical senses through the flyer to inspect the building, only for him to feel as if his heart jumped out of his chest after noticing that Krasus immediately stopped moving once he did so.

Fuck! Did I just reveal myself? I’ve never heard anything from Hadix about mages being able to notice another mage’s magical senses!

Krivax felt himself stop breathing as he waited for an angry wizard to teleport right next to him and ask him why he was following him.

After what felt like an eternity, but was more likely just a few tense moments, Krasus began moving again as if nothing was wrong and calmly entered the building. The moment the Archmage was out of sight, he quickly directed the flyer away from the building and instructed it to fly back to the enclave.

Only then did Krivax allow himself to start breathing again.

Although his quest to find out where Krasus lived was seemingly successful, he wasn’t completely sure how to feel. A part of him was convinced that the dragon had noticed… something, but if so then why didn’t he do anything about it?

After spending a few minutes thinking over the matter, Krivax decided that he didn’t know enough about Krasus to come up with an answer.

I hope that it was just my imagination.

Still, now that he knew where the Archmage lived, it wouldn’t be particularly difficult to arrange for a letter to be sent anonymously to the location. Even if the wards made it impossible for someone like Krivax to approach the building undetected, a little bit of gold to serve as motivation and a few clever uses of magic to hide his identity would be enough to make the arrangements.

Feeling cautiously optimistic, Krivax plucked a Howling Fjord scorpion from the Frostweave in the corner of his room and rewarded himself for a job semi-well done.

Just as he was finishing his meal and was about to begin planning out exactly what he intended to write in the letter, Krivax was interrupted by a skitterer frantically running into his room and delivering a letter before immediately running back out.

Not hesitating to push aside his previous plans, Krivax opened the letter and began reading.

Although the letter was short and the details it contained were sparse, its contents were enough to completely change many of his plans. After all, now that most of Khaz Modan had been conquered by the Horde and what refugees that had successfully fled the region were saying about Ironforge and Gnomeregan being under siege… he didn’t have very much time left to wait.

It was now or never.

Chapter Text

As Onki Quirkwire and his flymates flew through the cold air of Dun Morogh for another scouting run with his goggles on tight as his flight suit did its best to keep him warm, he could not help but feel dread at what he could see peeking over the horizon and making its way through the Searing Gorge and towards his home.

Namely, campfires. Thousands upon thousands of campfires.

He, like other pilots, had been patrolling the edges of Dun Morogh, pushing the limits of how far their machines could reach with no other places besides home to refuel for months now on the order of the High Tinkerer. Ever since these otherworldly invaders called the Horde had destroyed Stormwind, both Ironforge and Gnomeregan were worried they would turn their attention north to fuel their lust for conquest. For a while the orcs, those green-skinned creatures that made humans seem small, seemed happy enough ravaging the former lands of Stormwind, but he and others noticed how they kept building and building up their forces.

They made countless weapons in their equally countless forges, built hundreds and hundreds of siege weapons, and gathered more and more troops at Blackrock Mountain. All signs pointed towards the Horde preparing for further conflict.

Some in Ironforge even believed that the Horde had allied with their cast out cousins, the Dark Iron Clan, after hearing about how they had so easily taken territory that belonged to the dark-skinned dwarfs. Judging by the quality of the arms and armor of the Horde that Onki and other pilots could see through their spyglasses, they believed it.

Day by day, Onki watched as the war machine pointed toward his home grew more and more terrible, the vastness of it all enough to make him feel hopeless…

Then the horrible day came when that army started to move north as everyone had predicted, and all Onki and his flymates could do was report back how much closer the Horde got every day to Dun Morogh. Soon they would be entering the first passes and tunnels into the snowy region, but they would be ready… he hoped.

His were not a warlike people, the gnomes never having to face any large-scale conflict in all their history. They invented for betterment, progress, exploration, industry, and fun.

Not for war.

Onki was feeling glad now that the dwarfs saw fit to create the tools of war that might allow them to survive this coming calamity. He didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t have guns and bombs to even the scale against such a terrible foe.

But not even the dwarfs of Ironforge, their closest friends, allies, and some even believed cousins, had seen large-scale fighting since the War of Three Hammers over two centuries ago, and that would be more comparable to a small skirmish compared to this.

They were not like the humans, who seemed to exist in a near-constant state of war, and were out of their element against a seemingly unending hostile force who had already destroyed a whole kingdom that had won its last two wars against terrible threats, but fallen here.

Already both rulers had sounded the evacuation of all dwarfs and gnomes in Khaz Modan to the safety and fortifications of the cities, resulting in a situation where both Ironfroge and Gnomeregan contained practically every living soul in the entire region. Rushed efforts were being done to upgrade and improve upon both capital’s already extensive defenses while both populations were being put through hurried militia training to fight alongside the proper military of both kingdoms if need be.

The idea that things were so grim and the threat so large that everyone had to fight… it made Onki glad there were gnomes and dwarfs far to the north so that should the worst happen…

He didn’t even want to think about it.

Still, the best he could do right now as the Horde drew steadily closer was to keep an eye on their movements and make sure that the dwarfs knew where to hit them to make them really hurt.

After all, it wasn’t as if the Horde had anything that could bring down true gnomish craftsmanship!

Ironforge was talking about arming things like his baby with guns and bombs so they could do more, but the idea of his machine being used for such violence and not flying and exploration like she was made for made him sick to his stomach.

There had been proposals like that before, of course. While his people did not like using their inventions for violence, they were not stupid or blind enough to not notice the possibilities, but there had simply never been any need before now.

Still, war required sacrifices and if that was the worst thing that he would have to compromise on, then it would be a blessing.

A quick look at his fuel gauge showed he was nearing the halfway point, so he signaled his flymates and they turned around to head home for maintenance and refueling, both for their machines and themselves. The next flight would take over the scouting and patrolling while they reported on what they found and got their rest.

Unfortunately, one thing was undoubtedly certain.

The Horde had come to Khaz Modan.

“Just a little more…” Brann Bronzebeard, youngest of the Brothers Bronzebeard, said quietly as he looked through his spyglass at the approaching greenskin army that was making their way through the single pass they hadn’t yet collapsed.

Once word had come through of the Horde’s advance into Dun Morogh proper he and his fellow mountaineers, along with the demolition teams, got to work right quick to make certain the Horde only had one way to go. They knew they couldn’t stop the tide of greenskins, but they could slow them down and make sure they went where they wanted.

With that in mind, they left this large pass suspiciously open. Oh, Brann was sure the Horde’s leadership had noticed, but the bastards couldn’t do anything about it unless they wanted to spend weeks digging through the collapsed passes and tunnels or brave a trek through the high mountains.

So they sent their army through… and surprisingly nothing happened, so they just kept going; the ambush they were likely expecting did not come and they began to lower their guard.

Brann didn’t believe in fighting fair against already unfair odds, which was why he and his fellows set up a trap for the greenskins, one which relied on his knowledge of the mountains.

There was no other dwarf in all of Khaz Modan that knew these mountains’ geography as well as he… and none knew their geology as well either.

Brann watched the greenskins patiently as they slowly marched themselves to their deaths.

“Now!” he signaled to the various demo teams throughout the area, firing a flare into the sky for everyone in the area to see. That got the Horde to stop short and get on guard, likely thinking it was the beginning of some kind of magical attack.

Oh no, Brann had far worse in store for the monsters… he had a lot of friends from Stormwind to avenge after all.

All around the Horde’s advancing force, muted booms could be heard coming from every direction, causing many orcs to look around them in confusion trying to find the source of the noise. But then a new sound began booming throughout the pass… one that rumbled like thunder and came with all the force of a tsunami on land.

Brann picked this spot specifically to force the Horde through since its mountain peaks were full of snow… snow which was easily dislodged by a few well-placed explosives.

Rushing toward the Horde like an unrelenting wave, snow and stone tumbled down from the surrounding mountains, funneled specifically to crash down on the approaching army. They recognized the danger right away and many attempted to flee, but none could outrun the avalanche that Brann had meticulously planned.

Brann and his forces watched from the safety of their carefully selected spots as the front part of the Horde’s army simply vanished in mere moments as the greenskins were buried in snow until the pass was no longer a pass. By the time it was over, there was nothing left but a large hill of debris that would take the Horde no small amount of time and resources to even attempt to get past.

Still, even Brann was shocked as he witnessed a few of the creatures dig themselves out of their tomb. Not many, and clearly very injured, but the fact that anything at all survived that avalanche was nothing short of amazing… and terrifying.

“Just how tough are these damn things?” Brann couldn’t help but growl as he saw what few survivors of the trap pulled themselves out of the snow.

Even worse, this wasn’t even the whole army, merely the frontmost part of it, and Brann was sure it was the ‘expendable’ part since the Horde had been no doubt expecting an ambush. Now that they had shown them what they were capable of, Brann was certain that the Horde would be more careful going through Dun Morogh.

Of course, that wasn’t all of his tricks, and the more successful they were at slowing the Horde down the more time his eldest brother and king had time to prepare his people and the gnomes.

If the Horde wanted to make their way through Dun Morogh to attack his home, then he would make them pay in blood for every step they took.

After all, Brann thought as he picked up his rifle and looked down its scope, aiming directly at the healthiest looking orc that had survived the trap and even now was looking for its weapon, no one knows these mountains better than me.

Thus was the first official shot of the Invasion of Khaz Modan made that day, followed by many others as the dwarves of Ironforge drew first blood.

“For Khaz Modan!” Muradin Bronzebeard, middle child of the Brothers Bronzebeard and High Thane of Ironforge, let out a furious war cry as he split an orc in twain with his rune axe in one hand while crushing the head of another with his hammer.

He didn’t allow himself to slow down for a single moment, with each strike of his weapons outright killing or at least mortally wounding every orc that attempted to get close to him.

An orc raider, riding upon its giant wolf mount, attempted to ram him only for him to toss his hammer into the rider, knocking the orc off clean into the air and collapsing its chest. Muradin swiftly followed up ramming his axe into the wolf’s skull, killing it instantly.

With a raised hand his hammer flew back to him, returning to his grip easily and its head stained with blood and pieces of bone.

That wasn’t the end of it though as the creature that shouldn’t even be able to breathe picked itself up, coughing blood all the while, and ran at him with his ax raised high. Muradin admired the determination if nothing else, even if he wished it wasn’t pointed at his people. He blocked the orc’s strike with his hammer and counterstuck with his own ax, bisecting the orc from his waist to his shoulder.

“Try getting up from that,” Muradin growled as the two halves of the orc fell down dead.

Several more orcs charged at him, in hopes of avenging their fallen comrade, but their efforts were useless. Not only was Muradin a highly accomplished warrior, but every single piece of gear that he was wearing was heavily enchanted and masterfully crafted.

That meant that Muradin slaughtered the orcs easily as soon as they drew close enough to meet his axe.

All around him the sounds of battle could be heard as he and his warriors did combat with a party of orc scouts. Doughty warriors fought and killed creatures nearly three times their size, all with skill and bravery while armed and armored with the best Ironforge had to offer.

Muradin had been leading parties such as this for weeks now, for while they could not beat the Horde in numbers face to face they could ride out on their rams and slaughter their scouting parties and the smaller warbands that the Horde sent ahead to secure ground.

At first, it was easy. Using their mounts and their home environment to their advantage, they usually managed to get the drop on the creature, take them out quickly, and then head off before any reinforcements could come.

The goal was to blind the Horde as much as possible, while their own eyes in the sky kept constant watch on them. This made it easier to lead them into traps, dead ends, and slow them down more and more, delivering a thousand cuts to a colossal beast until it bled out.

Sadly, as the weeks dragged on and the Horde’s main body kept on marching into Dun Morogh their numbers and forces grew… and so did the challenge to fight them back.

First, it was the ogres, lumbering brutes that were twice the size of the orcs themselves. Stupid as stones but just as strong and tough to kill as they looked. Muradin had seen many brave dwarf warriors be crushed under their bulk or tossed aside with ease, their bodies collapsing under the immense strength of the stupid creatures.

They were dumb muscle, yes, but muscle all the same.

Of course, they were nothing compared to the two-headed variants who could actually think. They had all the strength and toughness of their less intelligent cousins, but also the ability to use arcane magic, not unlike the mages up north. Although unlike them they used their magic brutally and savagely but no less effectively against his warriors. Thankfully they were rarer to see on the battlefield than the single-headed and non-magical kind.

But the worst were not the ogres, oh no. There was something far worse among the Horde that showed their wicked nature more than anything else Muradin had ever seen.

“Death Knight!” one of his warriors cried out in warning, and Muradin was quick to turn his head and see the approaching enemy reinforcements, more orc raiders being led by the being in question.

An abomination of life and death riding upon an equally undead steed; the former knights of Stormwind rode again as monsters in service of the Horde. He knew not what foul magics animated them, only that they took delight in slaughter and that they thrived in death.

Muradin recalled seeing the literal life of dwarf warriors being sucked out of them before such creatures, seemingly refusing to fall no matter how much damage they suffered. And worst of all, the monsters raised the dead as mindless servants, both enemies and allies, to sick upon the living. Such creatures took far too many lives to take down, especially when every living dwarf was needed in this war, so there was only one thing to do at this time.

“Fall back! Fall back!” he bellowed his order for all to hear. “Disengage and fall back!”

It was sadly an order that he had to give more and more as the fighting kept on. He and his warriors killed and killed, but it didn’t feel as if they were even making a dent in the Horde’s numbers. It seemed no matter how many bands he personally saw defeated, the Horde’s movement continued undaunted.

So it was with an increasingly heavy heart as he helped cover his warriors' retreat before mounting his ram and beating feet to safety as fast they could.

Thankfully, despite the speed and endurance of the Death Knights' undead steeds, they were still limited in how they could move like the live horses they once were, while Ironforges rams were made to move within their mountainous home. They quickly escaped their enemies and made for safety to regroup, Marudin counting his party to see how many they had lost.

Less than he feared, more than he hoped.

His was not the only warrior band striking at the Horde where they could, but their casualties were building quickly and soon it would not be safe for even probing attacks. They might be slowing down the Horde, but he wondered at times if they were only delaying the inevitable.

No, he shook his head. I can’t think like that.

“Let’s get home, lads! Will get them back next time!” he encouraged his men.

Though I wished I believed it more myself.

Deep in the Military Ward of Ironforge, dwarfs and gnomes of all kinds were rushing around delivering reports, transporting messages, giving status updates, and everything else needed to help run an army as smoothly as possible. This was the first major conflict for the people of Ironforge in centuries, but they had been training and preparing since that time… even if the enemy they were facing was far from the one they were expecting.

Within said ward the king of Ironforge himself, Magni Bronzebeard, stood next to his fellow ruler and close friend, Gelbin Mekkatorque, High Tinkerer of Gnomeregan. Both were listening to Angus Stonehammer, captain of the Ironforge Guard, give them a personal update about the conflict with the Horde.

It was not good news.

“They simply number too many,” he repeated the fact that all knew but dreaded to hear. “Our efforts have slowed them down considerably, but the Horde’s soldiers are tough and determined. They will reach our gates soon, my lords, and we have no hope of matching them in open combat. All other major settlements and holdouts have fallen, their populations here, fled or worse.”

“Then we make our stand,” King Magni said grimly. “We’ve done all that we can and now we must trust that our defenses will see us through this dark night.”

“We’ve made all the preparations we could in such a short time,” Gelbin finally spoke up. “But Gnomeregan is not Ironforge… I fear we will prove to be a weak link to you, dear friend.”

“Nonsense! Gnomeregan’s gates are as tough as ours and your inventions will scare off the Horde, this I’m sure!” Magni was quick to counter his friend’s dire words.

“Still… should the worst happen…” Gelbin started hesitantly, before his expression turned to one of firm resolve. “I’ll evacuate as many of my people as I can through the tunnels connecting us together. Then you’ll close the gates behind them and collapse them.”

“Only if you promise to offer my people the same,” Magni said grimly. “Knowing the Horde they will come at us first, thinking we are the toughest nut to crack, and breach our walls first.”

“Only because your people have shown you are the better warriors, while all we’ve done—” Gelbin started, only to be interrupted by Magni.

“Is provide invaluable aerial reconnaissance, nearly all your city’s engineers to help strengthen our defenses and build our weapons, lent me your clerks and workers to help run the logistics for my warriors, and a million other things,” said Magni, listing out the gnomes’ many contributions. “Your people are not weak Gelbin, your strengths are many and have been proven time and again. Ironforge is blessed to have an ally like Gnomeregan in these dark times.”

Gelbin could only smile at the kind words, even if the smile did not reach his eyes and he did not totally believe them. His thoughts turned to the steam armor that he had begun constructing as soon as he learned of the Horde, but he knew that it would not be ready nearly in time. His people had not been ready for war.

“Still, we still have time to do what work we can and make sure we are ready,” Gelbin finally decided to say after a moment of silence. “We’ll double-check the stockpiles, but according to my calculations, we should have enough supplies to last us years if we manage it right. We can still mine, get water, and build things even during a prolonged siege, and we have the experimental mushroom farms working overtime to produce all the food we might need.”

“So the only way we are losing this fight is if the Horde breaks in our front door, which we won’t allow,” Magni said with a cruel smirk. “They’ll drown in their own blood before they even make a dent, you’ll see.”

“While I am not one for such graphic descriptions, I hope so my friend,” Gelbin nodded solemnly, hating the loss of life but also knowing it was the only way for them to survive. “I must return to Gnomeregan soon to go over any final checks before the Horde reaches us. That and I’m sure Sicco is getting tired of being in charge while I’m over here,” he finished with a laugh.

“To victory then, my friend,” Magni said as he grabbed a nearby mug of ale.

“To peace,” Gelbin said as he grabbed his own mug.

Hopefully, they could share another drink when this was all over and they were still alive… hopefully.

“What an utter waste of time,” Orgrim Doomhammer, Warchief of the Horde, could not help but growl.

While the invasion of Khaz Modan was necessary for the Horde to get access to the resources it needed to invade the northern human kingdoms it didn’t mean that the whole experience wasn’t a bloody slog the entire way. The dwarfs, and surprisingly even the gnomes, had resisted their advance with a determination that was very orclike, worthy of respect for their courage and fortitude. They made the Horde fight for every inch they gained and were still making them earn it as all attempts at breaching Ironforge and Gnomeregan produced only failure and piles of orc corpses.

It got so bad that Doomhammer had no choice but to put a stop to the assaults and simply instruct Kilrogg Deadeye and his Bleeding Hollow Clan to keep up the siege and keep them contained. They had what they needed anyhow, full control of Khaz Modan’s natural resources and access to the dwarven forges that they had conquered during the course of their invasion.

The Bleeding Hollow would keep the short folk contained while the Blackrock would create more armaments and siege weapons for the Horde to better prepare them for their northern invasion.

It was absolutely essential that they destroyed the humans as quickly as possible so that his people could have a new home away from their dying homeland. They had to strike before they could be destroyed.

For that cause, there was nothing that he would not do and no line that he would not cross.

He would even suffer Gul’dan’s continued survival and that of his pet ogre so long as the traitorous warlock kept providing Death Knights. The abominations had proven their worth several times over during the course of the invasion and had done much to smash apart organized resistance to their advance.

That would change once the war was over and the warlock’s assistance was no longer so valuable, of course.

Still, they had much to prepare for still, beyond arming his warriors and recovering the losses taken coming this far.

It would be the height of foolishness to attempt to invade the north by land since the only means to do so was across a single bridge no doubt the humans would well fortify. So the only other choice they had to transport his warriors to their enemies would be to cross the sea, something orcs did not particularly have much experience with.

Creating a fleet large enough to transport most of the Horde that far would take time, time he would need to convince his warriors of this plan and ideally find more allies. Fortunately, he had options on that front, such as the creatures called ‘goblins’ who had been reading out to the Horde recently to do ‘business’ with them, along with envoys from those in the north that had no love of humans, trolls of a different clan from the ones encountered during the war with Stormwind.

Time was also his enemy for he knew the northern kingdoms at this time must have been preparing for their arrival, but there was no helping it.

For now, they were victorious and that was worth celebrating.

They would rest and prepare, and then the Horde would conquer the north and destroy anything that could be a threat to their future.

‘It is the only way,’ he thought as he gripped his family’s weapon tightly.

Chapter Text

rasus, also known as Korialstrasz, felt a slight unease as he listened to the Council of Six discuss the most recent news about how things were developing down south. According to all reports, the situation was dire, and Krasus could see the Council members increasing their assessment of the Horde’s threat.

“Have we truly not had any success in our attempts to contact Ironforge or Gnomeregan?” asked Ansirem, his voice filled with surprise.

“All of our attempts have been complete failures,” Kel’thuzad said bluntly. “While the Horde’s magic is not particularly sophisticated, it has a certain strength to it. Perhaps if I knew more about the magic that they use, then I would have a better idea of how to overcome them.”

Kel’thuzad spoke the last part while staring pointedly at Antonidas, who simply ignored him completely.

Krasus knew that Kel’thuzad held the Grand Magus responsible for not allowing him to study more dangerous magic firsthand. Privately, he was grateful that the mortals were smart enough to severely limit the study of such vile magic; he knew far more than they did how dangerous such studies could be, especially in regard to the corruptive powers of Fel and Void.

Even the nerubians don’t seem to use Void magic anymore, and they are literally descended from creatures formed from the Old Gods’ ichor, he thought in the privacy of his own mind.

There had once been a time shortly after the nerubian’s disastrous defeat in their war against the vrykul that some among his people had proposed attacking the creatures while they were at their weakest. After all, their race had been servants of the Old Gods at the time and was thus considered to be a threat to Azeroth.

Ultimately, it was his beloved queen, Alexstrasza, who had opposed the destruction of an entire race of sapient beings, regardless of how dangerous they might be. Krasus had not agreed with his beloved’s decision at the time, even if he had kept his thoughts to himself, but he now saw that his queen was far wiser than he.

He was still surprised at how much the creatures had changed after not seeing them for a few millennia, and no matter how closely he studied them, he could find no trace of the Old Gods’ influence. It seemingly showed that even the Old God’s forces could grow common sense and abandon the malicious entities.

Krasus couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the thought.

“Has there been any news from Capital City on any progress made by the Council of Seven Nations?” asked Antonidas, continuing to ignore Kel’thuzad as the Archmage glared in his direction.

The Grand Magus had a bad habit of bluntly changing subjects that he didn’t want to discuss, or that he knew would go nowhere

“My contacts in Capital City tell me that there are signs that Gilneas and Alterac are loosening their opposition,” said Krasus, choosing to speak up since he was the one who knew the most about what was happening in Lordaeron’s capital. “I’ve heard rumors that King Perenolde was scared stiff over how quickly the Horde managed to conquer Khaz Modan, and even King Greymane seems to be disturbed.”

Living as long as he did made it convenient to form relationships with all sorts of people who knew valuable information. Especially when he could share information with his fellow members of the Red Dragonflight or their Dragonsworn.

After all, he wasn’t the only dragon secretly living in mortal society.

He himself had a Dragonsworn, a half-elf named Garek Autumnband, who lived in Capital City and served him faithfully.

“Good,” Antonidas said with satisfaction. “Perhaps the two of them will end their useless bickering and we can finally take the fight to the Horde.”

“Have you had any luck in convincing your father, Prince Kael’thas?” asked Krasus. Given that his mortal form was an elf, it was most appropriate that he be the one to ask such a question.

“I have not,” said Kael’thas, his expression growing frustrated, as it often did when discussing his father. “Neither my father nor the Grand Magister are interested in joining this conflict, and do not view the Horde as a significant threat to Quel’thalas.”

It was well known that Prince Kael’thas had many disagreements with his father and Silvermoon’s magisters about how unwilling his people were to cooperate with outsiders. The prince was much more interested in learning from and collaborating with foreign people to the point that he actually spent more time in Dalaran than Silvermoon.

Krasus had known the prince for many centuries, and it made him feel optimistic that Quel’thalas would have such an open-minded king in the future.

“Have they been made aware of Anduin Lothar’s status as a direct descendant of the Arathi bloodline?” asked Krasus, referring to the agreement made by Quel’thalas to repay the debt they owed for the Arathi Empire’s assistance during the Troll Wars.

“He has, which is the only reason that my father is even considering sending aid,” said Kael’thas. “Although I doubt whatever force they send will be as substantial as it should be. I’ve been disappointed by my father and the Convocation enough times to know better than to expect Quel’thalas to mobilize its entire military for a threat they consider beneath them.”

Krasus didn’t doubt that the prince’s assumption was accurate; there was little chance that Quel’thalas would be providing large amounts of military aid against the Horde unless they were personally threatened.

A part of him wanted to look down on them for that kind of mentality, but he wasn’t blind to the fact that many among the Dragonflights felt similarly. Perhaps there might be wisdom in his people remaining generally uninvolved in the affairs of mortals, but the longer he lived among them, the more difficult it became to find such wisdom.

His own Dragonflight was by far the most empathetic towards mortals, but even their good intentions had a tendency to be distinctly… patronizing.

The rest of the meeting was dull yet necessary as they discussed logistics and went over ideas of how Dalaran could best contribute to the defeat of the Horde. It wasn’t until near the end of their scheduled meeting time that someone brought up mention of the people that had been on Krasus’s mind since their arrival to the Eastern Kingdoms.

“And what of the nerubians?” Kel’thuzad said as the conversation began to lull. “Is there anything we can offer to convince them to aid us against the Horde?”

The Chamber of Air was silent for a moment as the gathered Archmages considered the question before Prince Kael’thas let out a derisive chuckle.

“I sincerely doubt it,” said Kael’thas. “The majority of their Viziers remind me far too much of several Magisters that I’ve spoken to over the years. It doesn’t help that they are even more unlikely to view the Horde as a threat given their kingdom’s geographical isolation.”

It was certainly a fair point to make, although not one that filled Krasus with much optimism. There was little chance that Azjol-Nerub would consider the Horde to be a significant threat to their kingdom, and they would probably even be right not to. The idea that the Horde could transport a significant force to Northrend, march who knows how far through endless snow, and successfully assault a powerful underground kingdom likely filled with all manner of horrifying creatures was laughable.

However, just because the Horde was not likely to be a threat to their safety, did not necessarily mean they were not a threat to the nerubian’s interests. The only problem was that Krasus didn’t understand them enough to give an accurate guess as to what they actually wanted from the Eastern Kingdoms.

Without that kind of information, it would be hard to convince the nerubians to enter a war that largely did not affect them.

After taking a look around, Krasus could tell from his colleagues' frustrated expressions that they had likely reached the same conclusion.

The Council discussed a variety of methods they could use to persuade the nerubians, but none of them seemed particularly viable. The most feasible proposition was to leverage the relationship the Church of the Holy Light had with the nerubian Spiderlord named Anub’rekhan, but it was doubtful that would be enough to change the policy of an entire kingdom.

“If we are unable to convince Azjol-Nerub to fight the Horde, then we must turn our focus to the resources that we can gain from them,” said Antonidas, causing the room to grow quiet as they considered what the nerubians could offer short of sending their warriors.

“Perhaps they might provide material goods? They certainly seem to have more than enough ore,” offered Kel’thuzad, stroking his beard with a thoughtful expression.

“Lordaeron’s diplomats have already begun negotiations with the nerubian delegation for the exchange of valuable goods,” said Krasus, remembering what his contacts told him about the ongoing situation in Capital City. “The negotiations are progressing slowly given how Azjol-Nerub seems to be nearly as averse to trading and interacting with outsiders as Quel’thalas… but they thankfully are progressing.”

“If Lordaeron is already in negotiations with them, then the matter should be left to them,” said Modera. “Their silk could be useful for creating the appropriate armor for our mages and soldiers.”

The few samples of nerubian silk that, more so than even the rare quel’dorei silk, they had managed to acquire proved to be highly durable, fairly resistant to bladed weapons, and possessed certain qualities that made it extremely well suited to enchanting and channeling arcane magic. It was similar to chainmail, in a way, but in cloth form.

Because most metal armors were not conducive to effective spellcasting, which was why the majority of mages were limited to robes and magical means for their defense. If they could equip their military with armor that used such material, then it would be a substantial boost to their combat effectiveness.

“I will raise the matter with their delegation when I see them in Capital City,” declared Antonidas. “Is there anything else relevant to the war that we could gain from them?”

After word about the Horde’s successful conquest of Khaz Modan reached the nerubians, they declared their intention to return to Capital City as soon they finished situating their enclave. It made sense that they would want to be at the place where the most important political decisions were taking place during such a tumultuous period in history.

The gathered Archmages shared thoughtful expressions for several moments, but nobody voiced any further proposals.

“I have an idea… although I admit it is quite unorthodox,” said Ansirem, speaking hesitantly after seeing that everyone else kept their silence.

“Please, friend, in times like these you should not be afraid of voicing your thoughts,” said Kael’thas. “We need all the ideas we can get.”

“Perhaps I should give some context before I share my proposal,” said Ansirem, pausing for several moments to gather his thoughts before continuing. “Several days ago, I went to the nerubian enclave to ask Vizier Krivax a few questions about his people that I was curious about.”

“Hmph. That’s the friendly one, correct?” asked Modera.

Vizier Krivax had very quickly been singled out as one of the easiest members of the nerubian delegation to actually speak with. This meant many interested parties considered him to be the optimal person to approach if they had a proposal to make to the nerubians, despite his obvious lack of authority when compared to his peers.

Ironically, this meant that one of the most important members of the nerubian delegation from the perspective of the Eastern Kingdom’s diplomats was seemingly one of the least important from the perspective of Azjol-Nerub.

It was certainly a rather… strange situation that the young nerubian had found himself in. It was like watching a whelp that had somehow managed to place itself in a situation where it spoke for an entire Dragonflight.

“Correct, Vizier Krivax is the ‘friendly one,’” continued Ansirem. “I mainly approached him because of a comment he made during the duel between Arcanist Flametrail and Vizier Hadix that made me curious. He told me that some Spiderlords carry around swarms of man-eating insects on their person.”

“While that does admittedly sound quite fascinating, I’m not sure what it has to do with the subject at hand,” said Kel’thuzad.

“When I asked him if he could tell me more about the relationship that the nerubians have with non-sapient insects and arachnids, we had a long discussion during which he showed me a particular artifact,” said Ansirem, continuing on as if Kel’thuzad had not spoken. “It was some kind of magical tool that allowed him to telepathically direct the non-sapient members of his species and lesser invertebrates.”

At the Archmage's words, the members of the Council all suddenly seemed to be much more interested.

Like the nerubian’s geomancy, that was a form of magic dissimilar to anything that they had in Dalaran and was thus inherently interesting to any mage with even a hint of curiosity.

“While that does admittedly sound even more fascinating, I’m still not sure what it has to do with the subject at hand,” Kel’thuzad drawled.

“According to Vizier Krivax, while such artifacts are usually only found among the high castes of their society, they are not considered to be any great secret, nor are they very difficult to create,” said Ansirem, throwing an annoyed glance in Kel’thuzad’s direction. “My proposal is this. We offer to purchase these artifacts at a significant price, alongside the non-sapient creatures that they control to aid in our war effort.”

Krasus couldn’t help but feel a bit dumbfounded at the Ansirem’s proposal, and after taking a quick glance around the room he could tell his colleagues were similarly speechless. The idea of simply… purchasing living beings from the nerubians as they would purchase weapons was not something that had occurred to him...

Would Azjol-Nerub really be willing to make such a deal?

Krasus’ mind raced as he took a moment to consider the matter, and found himself surprised when he couldn’t find an immediate reason why they wouldn’t. From what he had seen of the nerubians, there was no indication that they considered the jormungar or the non-sapient members of their race as any more than tools or beasts of burden, not unlike how the other mortal races treated their own creatures.

Not only that, but they were tools that were not particularly difficult to replace from their perspective.

It wasn’t actually that much different from purchasing a golem from Quel’thalas, or horses from Stromgarde.

There was a possibility that the nerubians might be unwilling to sell the controlling artifacts for fear of them being replicated, but the artifacts weren’t particularly valuable without the creatures they were meant to control, which Azjol-Nerub would maintain a monopoly over.

From their perspective, there really was not much risk at all, which made it much more likely that they would be willing to consider such an arrangement.

“Even a single Jormungar would have the potential to be a valuable military asset,” said Prince Kael’thas, his expression thoughtful as he seriously considered the unexpected proposal. “Aside from what damage it could do on its own, it would allow our soldiers to more easily assault entrenched enemy positions.”

Krasus had a brief mental image of one of the colossal worms burrowing a path into a Horde stronghold from below.

“Their flyers would also be useful for scouting during circumstances where scrying is not possible,” said Modera, eyes alight with enthusiasm for the idea.

“It would be difficult to evaluate what kind of value their skitterers would provide without knowing how many they would be willing to sell,” said Krasus consideringly. Against the Horde’s large numbers, they would definitely need to be deployed en masse to have a sizeable military impact. “But the question is, what would we give them in exchange? From what I’ve seen of them so far, the nerubians seem extremely self-sufficient.”

“Dalaran does not lack for resources,” Antonidas said confidently. “I’m sure we will be able to reach an arrangement when I speak with them. Well done Archmage Runeweaver, your proposal is… intriguing.”

The discussion revolved around that topic for several minutes before their scheduled meeting time came to an end. Until they actually spoke with the nerubian delegation and evaluated their reception to selling non-sapient creatures to be used in the war, there wasn’t much more for them to talk about.

Krasus left the meeting feeling a bit more optimistic than when it started and spent the entire walk to his home considering the risks and benefits. He wouldn’t be surprised if the nerubians had more hidden away in their underground kingdom than what they had already seen and heard from them so far.

Maybe I can convince them later to allow a delegation from Dalaran to visit Azjol-Nerub proper in the future once the war is over. He mused.

It would be wise to evaluate how their society had developed after freeing itself from the Old Gods’ influence. It was so rare to experience new and novel things at his age, so it might even be a pleasant experience.

It’s a shame we don’t have anyone in our Dragonflight living in Azjol-Nerub. I’ll have to raise the matter with my beloved the next time I see her.

It was these thoughts that distracted him enough that he almost didn’t notice the presence waiting just outside the boundary of the wards surrounding his home. Krasus waved his hand and cast a quick scrying spell, and was surprised when it revealed the presence to be a young female goblin, looking around impatiently while standing outside of his home, obviously waiting for somebody to arrive.

That’s strange. The goblins don’t usually leave the Underbelly, and my address shouldn’t be known outside of a few people.

Krasus couldn’t sense anyone else waiting around his home, and a single goblin was obviously not much of a threat, so he didn’t hesitate to approach her.

It was thanks to his heightened hearing that he could hear the goblin muttering to herself as he drew closer.

“How longs it gonna take for this mage to show up? I ain’t gettin’ paid enough to wait out in the cold…”

Ah… so she is waiting for me after all.

“Can I help you?” asked Krasus as soon he was close enough for the goblin to hear him, causing her to let out a startled yelp.

“Jeez! Why’s it you elves like sneaking up on people?! Should wear a bell or somethin’!” said the goblin, glaring at him mulishly.

“Oh, you have my apologies,” Krasus drawled, raising a single eyebrow. “How incredibly rude of me to sneak up on the suspicious individual waiting outside of my home, Ms…”

“The name's Mel Ficklepinch, and there ain't nothing suspicious about it! I’m here on legit business. Got paid to deliver a missive and everything!” said the goblin indignantly, pulling out a sealed letter from a pouch secured around her waist and holding it out for him.

Krasus looked down on the goblin with a dubious expression and directed his magical senses to the letter, completely unsurprised to discover that it was covered in magic. He looked again at the goblin, but couldn’t find anything in her expression that would imply that the spells were dangerous, so he took a closer look.

It was only after he found that he was unable to recognize a few of the spells that he began to take the matter more seriously.

“Where did you get this letter?” asked Krasus, staring at the goblin for any signs of falsehood. “Who is paying you for this delivery?”

“How should I know? The thing showed up in my room in the Underbelly with a pile of gold and instructions on it with an address. I’m not one to turn down gold, you see, and it seemed like a simple enough job, till you started asking questions of course,” she grumbled the last part. “Plus, I ain’t the kind of gal that’s dumb enough to cheat somebody who can just show up in my room without me noticing, you hear?”

Krasus didn’t hesitate to immediately look into the goblin’s mind. Unfortunately, the goblin seemed to be telling the truth, at least as far as she knew. She wasn’t even perturbed by the series of events, having apparently experienced similar things before in her dealings with the Steamwheedle Cartel.

According to her surface thoughts, she seemed to believe that he was some kind of Bloodthistle dealer getting in contact with a client.

Krasus took a quick second look at the spells attached to the letter and decided that they probably weren’t dangerous. The portions that he didn’t recognize seemed to be some kind of anti-divination magic to hide the sender's identity and not any kind of curse meant to cause him harm.

“Thank you,” said Krasus as he took the letter from the goblin. “Your delivery is complete. You may leave.”

“About time. My arm was starting to get stiff,” grumbled the goblin. “You ever need something delivered, just ask for Mel Ficklewink! You don’t got to worry about me asking any questions or talking to any guards.”

After giving her pitch, the goblin quickly scampered off, likely not wanting to push her luck with a mage who she believed to be some kind of drug dealer.

Krasus watched her for a moment before quickly making his way into his home, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he was alone, Krasus immediately cast a diagnostic spell on the letter, causing a three-dimensional arcane glyph representing the spells to form in the air in front of him.

Hmm… how clever.

Aside from the anti-divination magic, the other two spells cast on the letter were recognizable to him. One was a spell that would recognize when the letter's intended recipient made physical contact, setting off a timer that would activate a secondary spell after fifteen minutes. The second spell would create a small burst of fire that would immediately destroy the letter as soon as it activated.

Under normal circumstances, a mage as skilled as Krasus would easily be able to cast a counterspell to remove both pieces of magic, but there was one problem. Both of the spells were connected to the anti-divination magic, which would need to be removed first if he wanted to cast the counterspell.

Given that he had never seen such magic in his very long life, there was little chance he would be able to remove it in a mere fifteen minutes.

Realizing that he was on a time limit, Krasus decided to test the magic and quickly cast a divination spell that should tell him every person who had touched the letter within the last few months.

He watched in fascination as his spell seemed to be immediately caught by the anti-divination ward before being absorbed and somehow used to actually strengthen the ward.

How fascinating… I’ve never seen anything like it…

It had been a very long time since Krasus had seen magic that he did not recognize at all, and it immediately made him suspect that the letter had been written by a nerubian.

After all, they were currently the greatest source of new and unknown magic around and were also the people whose motivations he understood the least, so it would make the most sense if it came from them. That, along with the fact that he had sensed someone watching him near his home shortly after his conversation with Vizier Krivax.

It was unfortunate that he didn’t have time to examine the magic in detail, but given how much effort went into sending him the letter anonymously, its contents were likely important enough that he shouldn’t waste any more time.

Krasus broke the letter’s seal, unfolded the parchment, and immediately stiffened in shock as he realized that the letter was addressed to ‘Korialstrasz.’

There aren’t many people who should know my true name. Was this letter sent by another dragon? A dragonsworn agent? But then why the subterfuge?

As Krasus began reading through the contents of the letter, shock turned to confusion, and then to disbelief at the letter's outrageous claims. After the letter mentioned the Dragon Soul, a dark artifact the Dragonflights had taken great lengths to keep hidden from the world, Krasus began taking the claims a little more seriously. Few should know that it even existed, and nobody besides the highest members of his Flight should know that it had recently gone missing.

It was only when he reached halfway through the letter that his disbelief vanished and turned into utter, all-consuming rage.

As he read about what the orcs intended to do to his beloved, his face contorted into an expression of pure anger and a low growl started to form in his throat.

Flickers of flame danced along his skin even as the room around him began to shake. Books flew off of shelves and crashed to the ground, vials of potions shattered into pieces, and the ground beneath his feet began to crumble and crack.

His rage was so all-consuming that he actually struggled to retain his mortal disguise.

In a fit of unbridled anger, Krasus let out a mighty roar and a wave of magic exploded outward from him, tearing apart the room and only ending when it reached the wards, preventing his outburst from alerting all of Dalaran.

As the dust settled and the Archmage stood panting, surrounded by the wreckage of what had once been a peaceful and beautiful living room, he used every drop of willpower to push down his immense anger.

The very idea of the Horde using the Dragon Soul to do something so… evil to the person he loved most in the world made him want to immediately shed his mortal guise and fly south so he could personally burn them all alive.

The only thing stopping him from doing just that were the other claims being made in the letter.

If Deathwing is truly alive and he’s teaching the Horde how to use the Dragon Soul… then stopping him won’t be a simple matter.

If he was still alive, then Deathwing would be the only Aspect still in possession of all the powers bestowed upon him by the Titans. As powerful as Krasus was, his strength would be utterly insignificant when compared to the fallen Aspect of the Black Dragonflight.

After calming down, Krasus quickly read through the rest of the letter, filing the information as things to be dealt with later. Right now, the only thing he cared about was protecting his beloved.

However, the rest of the letter mostly detailed the relationship between the Horde and the Burning Legion, something that he already suspected, and about a specific orc by the name of Gul’dan. It was all immensely important, but not immediately time-sensitive from what he could tell, unlike the danger threatening his queen.

He could worry about the consequences and implications of that information later.

The moment that he finished reading, Krasus scanned the letter a second time so he could memorize its contents and immediately began making his way to the scrying mirror contained in his study.

Once at his mirror Krasus frantically cast a scrying spell that would hopefully show him Alexstrasza, and almost collapsed in relief when the spell succeeded, causing the mirror to show an image of her flying through the air accompanied by her other consorts.

Unfortunately, without them having a scrying tool on their end, there was no way for him to open up a channel of communication, though they were likely aware they were being watched.

After this is over, I’m going to invent a portable scrying tool that can be used while flying. I don’t care how long it takes.

After verifying that his beloved was currently safe, Krasus ended the scrying spell and moved to write a letter of his own that would be magically sent to the Grand Magus if he didn’t return to Dalaran within a few days. If the Horde was in possession of the Dragon Soul, then the trip he was about to make would not be a safe one, and the Council would need to be made aware of the truth.

Krasus still did not completely believe the contents of the letter that had been sent to him, but if there was even a small chance of it being accurate, then he needed to take action immediately. If it was all a lie, then whoever sent it was going to be deeply regretful for their actions when he found them.

Regardless of whether the contents were true or false, whoever wrote the letter knew more than they should. Krasus would without a doubt do everything in his power to find them after the more important matters were dealt with, but what happens if he succeeds would depend on the veracity of their claims.

He already has suspicions about who could have sent it, but either way, he would know soon enough whether the contents were true or false.

Thankfully as a member of the Council of Six he had the right to cast unscheduled teleports in and out of the city whenever he wanted, something he was happy to abuse now.

In a violet flash of magic, Krasus appeared many miles away in a forest in the southern portion of the Arathi Highlands.

Due to the spatial distortions being made by the Dark Portal, this was as close as he could reliably teleport with such little preparation. It would be enough, now that he was far from civilization.

For the first time in a long time, the Archmage known as Krasus shed his mortal guise, and Korialstrasz took on his true form. With two beats of his heavy wings that scattered the surrounding leaves into the air, the red dragon lifted himself into the air and began flying to his queen’s location as quickly as he could.

I swear, if she is harmed, then I will not rest until I have killed every single person responsible.

Chapter Text

Krivax released an aggravated sigh as he waited for the representative from Alterac to arrive for their meeting.

After the news had reached them about the Horde’s conquest of Khaz Modan, things started happening very quickly for everyone. The delegation had immediately decided to return to Capital City, only staying in Dalaran long enough to hand over control of the enclave to one of the arriving Viziers.

That hadn’t left very much time for Krivax to arrange for a letter to be anonymously sent to Krasus, but he had managed in the end. He’d even had enough time left over to discreetly hire a few members of the Steamwheedle Cartel to help him in finding something important. He didn’t know if they would actually succeed, but if they did, then it would give Krivax more options than he might have otherwise.

Once they actually reached the city, he learned that the Council of Seven Nations was meeting daily, and from what he could tell, Krivax expected them to announce the formation of the Alliance very soon. Despite the fact that nothing had been made official yet, armies were being prepared across the various kingdoms for the Horde’s arrival, blacksmiths were working night and day to make as many weapons as possible, and generals were working tirelessly to arrange for proper logistics.

Truly, Capital City was a hive of constant activity, and every single person in the city knew that war was approaching, and they were simply waiting for the kingdom to officially issue a declaration.

A part of him had expected that Azjol-Nerub’s diplomatic ventures would be delayed since most of the Eastern Kingdom’s diplomats would be too busy, but it seemed that he was mistaken.

Nearly as soon as they had arrived in the city, Anub’rekhan had ordered Krivax to join him in his ongoing negotiations with Alterac and taken him to a large building that had been requisitioned specifically for the Spiderlord, while the other Viziers went to meet with Antonidas.

Apparently, the Spiderlord had been meeting consistently with one of the kingdom’s nobles about possibly ceding some of their lands along the border they shared with Stromgarde. On paper, such an arrangement had the potential to be of great benefit to both Alterac and Azjol-Nerub.

Not only was the land itself not of great value to Alterac, but the chance to not only create a buffer between them and their enemy would be a significant boon to them. Not to mention the fact that they would have a friendly relationship with a powerful nation like Azjol-Nerub and that the nerubian settlement would likely do much for their economy through trade.

Of course, they understood that there was some risk of Azjol-Nerub gaining undue influence over them, but how was that any different than their current circumstances?

Alterac was the weakest of the human kingdoms, which meant they were pretty much already subordinate to the whims of Lordaeron. And worse yet from Alterac’s perspective, Lordaeron was a close ally of Stromgarde.

Under those circumstances, was it any wonder why Alterac was willing to take risks with a foreign power?

Despite all of this, Krivax didn’t particularly like the way things were developing.

Although this deal seemed to be in the interest of both Alterac and Azjol-Nerub, Krivax had many worries.

He wanted Azjol-Nerub to have a good relationship with the other nations, and this did not seem like a good way to accomplish that. In his opinion, having a settlement between Stromgarde and Alterac would place the nerubians in a position where they risked being drawn into the Eastern Kingdom’s internal conflicts.

Krivax didn’t want to end up in a position where the Horde was defeated only for a new war to break out immediately afterward between Alliance members.

Not only that, but he also found himself biased against Alterac’s ruler, King Perenolde, due to his metaknowledge. It was hard to be happy about Azjol-Nerub growing closer with a human nation when Krivax knew that their king would have, and still might, betrayed everyone else in the Alliance to the Horde.

He would have much preferred that Azjol-Nerub had instead chosen to make a deal with Stormwind and built their settlement in some isolated area in the southern part of the continent, far away from the more densely populated north.

On top of everything, there was also the fact that the negotiations between Azjol-Nerub and Alterac were being kept secret from the rest of the Eastern Kingdoms. Both parties wanted to get as close to a deal as possible before informing the other nations of their intentions.

Apparently, Alterac requested that it be done this way, to avoid interference from Lordaeron or Stromgarde, and Azjol-Nerub saw no reason not to comply with the request.

Krivax didn’t think it was good diplomacy for them to hide their negotiations, but there was not much that he could do about it. At the end of the day, Azjol-Nerub was an old and powerful kingdom that had never needed to care what other nations thought about them.

Understanding that dwelling on the subject wouldn’t accomplish anything, Krivax pushed these thoughts away and glanced at Anub’rekhan.

The Spiderlord looked to be perfectly content waiting for Alterac’s representative and didn’t seem to be the slightest bit impatient. In fact, Krivax just realized that Anub’rekhan had spent the past half an hour silently staring at one of his scythelike arms…

“Anub’rekhan… what are you doing?” asked Krivax, suddenly dumbfounded.

“Hmph? Oh, I’m attempting to use the Light to heal an injury,” said Anub’rekhan, not turning his gaze away from his arm. “Archbishop Faol has explained to me how to do so, theoretically, but I haven’t had much success thus far.”

Krivax focused on the Spiderlord’s arm and noticed a slight crack in its carapace.

“How did you get injured?” asked Krivax, failing to think of anything in Capital City that could actually hurt the massive Spiderlord.

“I ordered one of our warriors to strike me with his spear until I gained a wound to practice on. It took a number of hits before a crack formed.”

Krivax stared at the Spiderlord for several moments in bewilderment.

Anub’rekhan ignored him, turning his complete attention back to his arm, and Krivax was surprised to see a dim glow forming over the wound. He could tell that it was barely having any effect, but he couldn’t help but be amazed to see the Spiderlord channeling the Light at all.

“That’s really impressive,” Krivax said genuinely. “I’m surprised you’ve learned how to channel the Light so quickly.”

“Channeling the Light is much different from attuning yourself to arcane magic,” said Anub’rekhan as the glow slowly faded. “While there’s some learning that must be done, the Light is primarily driven by conviction. Something which I do not lack. The Archbishop has assured me that my ability to channel the Light will grow with practice.”

Krivax knew that he was probably right, but he still felt impressed by the Spiderlord’s quick progress.

“If you only need conviction, then what do you think is holding you back?” Krivax asked curiously.

Anub’rekhan hummed consideringly for a few moments before answering. “I’m not sure. The Archbishop told me that the Light only responds to those who are morally righteous, but that seems… nonsensical.”

“How so?”

Krivax knew from his metaknowledge that the Spiderlord was correct and that there were people who could use the Light to do immoral things, like the Scarlet Crusade for example. But, even they genuinely believed that they were doing the right thing.

“From my perspective, the concepts of morality and righteousness simply seem far too nebulous.” Anub’rekhan continued. “Whose morality? Whose righteousness? Does the Light judge what is and is not moral, or does the wielder? If it is the former, then where does its morality come from? And if it is the latter, then that means the Light could be used to do things that the Archbishop would consider to be evil.”

Krivax stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. He agreed with what Anub’rekhan was saying, but it was surprising to him how thoughtful the Spiderlord was.

"That makes sense," Krivax said finally. "As long as someone has sufficient conviction in their ideal, then they would be able to use the Light regardless of what those convictions are."

"Correct. And from what I've seen from these humans, their morality likely differs greatly from our own," said Anub'rekhan.

Krivax could hear a small amount of enthusiasm creeping into the Anub'rekhan's voice and knew that this was a topic that interested the Spiderlord.

"In what way?" Krivax prompted. Listening to Anub'rekhan share his perspective on morality and the Light was more interesting than he expected it to be.

Not to mention that it would be useful to learn how likely it was for Azjol-Nerub to widely adopt usage of the Light. It would help them a lot in overcoming the dangers that were coming, especially when it came time to fight the Lich King and his undead.

"For example, I believe that protecting our people is always morally correct, no matter what actions I need to take to do so,” Anub’rekhan said matter-of-factly. “However, most of the bishops I’ve spoken to seem to believe that there are some things that should not be done, regardless of the circumstances. I disagree.”

Krivax could imagine some of the horrible things the Spiderlord would be willing to do to protect Azjol-Nerub, and he knew most nerubians felt the same way. If there was one thing that he had learned over the years it was that nerubians were a highly collectivist society, and were highly devoted to protecting their community to an almost fanatical degree. They truly embodied the belief that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few.

Looking at it from that perspective, Krivax could see how the Light might be a good fit for them.

Anub’rekhan seemed content to continue speaking without any prompting, “It is not yet public knowledge, but Archbishop Faol has begun making arrangements for the creation of a group of warriors capable of wielding the Light in battle. I find it foolish of the humans that they have not already created such a group, but I am excited to see if these Light-wielding warriors are as capable as I expect them to be.”

Krivax immediately perked up at the Spiderlord’s words.

He must be referring to the first organization of paladins, the Knights of the Silver Hand!

“Really? Why hasn’t the Archbishop made an announcement?” asked Krivax

“He wishes to do so after the human kingdoms finally officialize their alliance. He does not wish to be seen as a threat by the kingdoms, or be seen as if he is favoring one nation over another.”

That made sense to Krivax. The last thing the Archbishop wanted to do during this chaotic time was to tell everyone that the Church of the Holy Light was building its own army, especially when it was headquartered in Lordaeron would mean the country would have their ‘favor’ in the eyes of many.

The Archbishop would likely announce his intention to create the first Paladins immediately after the formation of the Alliance and ask for each of the kingdoms to send their knights to be trained, to help maintain the Church’s stance as a neutral organization and act as a uniting force.

“Do you think Azjol-Nerub will be able to do something similar?” Krivax asked curiously.

“Without a doubt,” Anub’rekhan said without any hesitation. “Although there is little chance that Light will see as much use in our kingdom as Arcane magic, there is one characteristic in which the Light is superior to other forms of magic. Its safety and accessibility.”

Krivax considered it for a moment before deciding that Anub’rekhan was probably correct.

One of the things that he had noticed about Azeroth was that the various nations rarely explored the usage of other magics, despite knowing about them.

Dalaran was aware of pretty much every kind of magic, but despite this, the only magic that they practiced in any institutionalized fashion was Arcane magic. There were many reasons for this, but it mostly just boiled down to the magic either being too dangerous, them not knowing how to use it very well, or arcane being seen as the ‘best’ kind of magic due to it being something that could be studied and learned more easily when compared to more esoteric kinds of magic.

It was also likely that there was a lot of cultural influence from Quel’thalas that helped the use of arcane magic become more widespread and accepted after the Trolls Wars, as opposed to druidism or shamanism.

There was also the fact that each variety of magic required different mentalities to use them, meaning that different cultures tended to gravitate to one magic or another.

Azjol-Nerub was the same way. According to what he had been told by Hadix, the nerubians were aware that Death magic existed, but its usage was both rare and highly regulated due to the dangerous mental effects it had on those who used it. They were also aware of both Shamanism and Life magic, but any effort they put into studying these kinds of magics had always had minimal results.

Light magic was different because it was incredibly easy to use and it wasn’t nearly as dangerous as some of the other forms of magic, at least not directly

That was likely the reason why it was the second most popular form of magic among the human kingdoms, behind arcane magic, and even then it was mostly due to how well-suited it was for healing.

After all, the average perception of wizards was that they were powerful and mysterious people who lived in isolated towers and shot lightning from their hands, while priests could be visited whenever to offer physical and spiritual comfort.

Krivax was just about to ask the Spiderlord how long he felt it would take for Azjol-Nerub to widely adopt the Light when the Spiderlord interrupted him.

“The representative from Alterac is about to arrive,” said Anub’rekhan, turning his gaze toward the large dining room’s entrance, the room with the greatest amount of space for the Spiderlord’s size and still receiving guests.

“Really? How do you know?” Krivax asked before he could stop himself.

“I’ve memorized the sound of his heartbeat.”

…I should have known. Please stop being creepy, Anub’rekhan.

It didn’t take long after that for the door to swing open and for Krivax to stumble over his planned greeting when he didn’t see anyone walk inside.

He turned to look questioningly at Anub’rekhan but received only an amused chuckle in return. Fortunately, his confusion was cleared up when the door closed on its own and a well-dressed middle-aged man faded into visibility.

“Oh dear, I apologize for my late arrival,” said the man, putting away an enchanted ring that Krivax assumed to be responsible for his previous invisibility. “This building is quite heavily monitored. I must say, it was no small feat arriving unnoticed.”

Now that he could actually see the man, Krivax didn’t hesitate to greet him, “It’s not a problem, I’m glad that you arrived safely Mr…”

“Ah, pardon my poor manners. My name is Harlan Dalton, and I am the Count who owns the land my king wishes to cede to you,” said the man, offering a genial smile as he approached Krivax and held out his hand. “You must be Vizier Krivax. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Oh, this could be awkward.

Krivax didn’t know much about medieval politics, but even his basic knowledge told him that most nobles lived off how much land they governed over and so rarely liked giving it up.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Count Dalton,” said Krivax as he bent down to shake the man’s hand. “I must confess, I’m surprised that you are so willing to part with your lands.”

“I imagine you would not be nearly as surprised if you knew what that land has cost me and my House, or what I stand to gain from ceding it,” Count Dalton said sardonically.

The man didn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable in one of the nearby seats before he began elaborating.

“For one thing that land itself is near useless to me; too rocky for peasant farming, no natural defenses to really make use of, no easy access to natural resources to harvest, and in general nothing to really work with without significant investment with little hope of seeing a return in a decent time frame. The region is also a popular location for skirmishes between my kingdom and Stromgarde so what little is built there is regularly destroyed in the fighting.”

Krivax was smart enough to guess that the land was probably not particularly valuable, but he was surprised that the Count would admit as much during a negotiation.

“While I’m grateful for your candor, Count Dalton, I can’t help but find it… surprising,” Krivax said with uncertainty.

Count Dalton snorted before waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I believe we are all intelligent people here. There’s no need for me to waste time pretending that the land holds any great value to me, just like there’s no need for you to pretend that you don’t want it. I know you nerubians are likely to make it much more productive once you dig deep enough and find the veins of resources we’d never reach unless we hired whole teams of dwarfs to dig it up for us. That’s what you are paying for in the end.”

Krivax was feeling a bit off balance from the noble’s candor, but he was glad to hear it. He was much more used to people trying to gain every little benefit they could during negotiations, so this was a good sign that helped raise his opinion of the nobles of Alterac if more were like Count Dalton here.

“Besides, I doubt you could be worse neighbors than Stromgarde, and if they are foolish enough to attack you then you’ll find we’ll be your best friends,” Count Dalton said with a cruel smirk. “That and there are plenty of other deals we can make at a future date.”

Well… maybe a little less candor would be nice. I forgot that Alterac’s people are a scary mix of greedy, canny, and ambitious. Plus they have a large chip on their shoulder against most of the other kingdoms.

Krivax ignored Anub’rekhan’s amused chuckles as he responded to the Count, “If that is the case, then I imagine we’ll be able to finish these negotiations rather quickly.”

Anub’rekhan had already briefed him on the High King’s stance on several topics that Alterac had raised, and he knew there were only a few things left to negotiate. The rest had already been settled over the past few weeks.

Krivax doubted he was actually brought here for his diplomatic talents. It was more likely that the Spiderlord had simply gotten tired of talking to humans who didn’t interest him and decided to hand the rest over to him as soon as he returned to Capital City. Krivax was sure that Anub’rekhan would rather be talking with the Archbishop or practicing with the Light more right now.

“According to what I’ve been told, Alterac wishes to negotiate for passage through the surface portions of our settlement, is that correct?” asked Krivax, settling himself in a comfortable position as he prepared himself for the conversation ahead. “As you know, Azjol-Nerub is reluctant to agree to that due to the risk that your people might use our land to instigate conflict with Stromgarde.”

“We hold no such intentions. If your people begin trading with the nations of the Eastern Kingdoms, the settlement has the potential to become a crossroads for economic activity. Free access for our merchants is all that we ask.”

Krivax and Count Dalton eased their way into an easy back and forth in which they discussed the finer points of the agreement. Most of their time was spent on the topics of merchant access and a request from Alterac that the nerubians train some of their people in Arcane magic.

Apparently, Dalaran held a powerful monopoly on the training of mages, and the only other kingdoms that were capable of domestically training their own mages consistently were Lordaeron and Stormwind, not counting Quel’thalas of course.

Although it was only Lordaeron who was able to do so now, for obvious reasons.

The rest of the kingdoms had to settle for sending their people to Dalaran to become mages, meaning that their loyalties were often more divided than the kingdoms would prefer, especially if they joined Kirin Tor and ended up becoming influenced by Dalaran’s politics.

Azjol-Nerub had very little problem with training some of Alterac’s people into mages, so long as that training was carefully regulated. It was a perfect opportunity for them to spread their influence to their soon-to-be neighbor, and they intended to take full advantage of it.

At some point, their conversation drifted to the Council of Seven Nation’s ongoing negotiations, and Krivax couldn’t help but ask the Count about Alterac’s stance on it.

“At this point, everything has already been decided. Nobody is foolish enough to ignore the threat the Horde poses after they conquered Khaz Modan. King Perenolde is merely doing his best to gain every advantage he can for our kingdom, as he should. Honestly, even Greymane knows that he can’t hold out for much longer, and that man’s the most stubborn king around.”

Their conversation went on for nearly an hour with Anub’rekhan occasionally interjecting, and towards the end of it Krivax was starting to feel slightly more optimistic about Azjol-Nerub’s cooperation with Alterac.

They had actually been so productive that Krivax wasn’t even upset when they were suddenly interrupted by someone knocking urgently on the door. After shouting out to let whoever it was known they could enter, one of the nerubian guards stepped into the room and bowed deeply to Anub’rekhan.

“Spiderlord, I’ve received word that the Council of the Seven Nations intends to hold a meeting within the next few hours. All of the rulers, along with Archbishop Faol, will be in attendance, and there are rumors being whispered throughout the city that they intend to make an announcement.”

“Well, that sounds interesting,” said Count Dalton, sounding pleased. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation later. It’s not every day that a man gets the chance to witness history happen in person after all.”

“I agree,” said Anub’rekhan, already standing up and making his way to the exit. “This is an event worth witnessing. We must send someone to ask the human mage to expand the space of the tiny palace. I wish to be in attendance.”

“I’ll be sure to make the request myself,” said Krivax, following closely behind.

A part of him was extremely excited that he had the chance to watch an event as important for the history of Azeroth as the formation of the Alliance of Lordaeron, but another part of him was dreading what was to come.

Krivax knew that it wouldn’t be long after the Alliance was formed that their armies would be marching south and the Second War would soon be in full swing.

And now that he had changed events by warning Krasus about Deathwing, Krivax for the first time had no idea what was going to happen next.

Chapter Text

Turalyon stepped through the halls of Capital City’s royal palace with an ease born of a great deal of experience. His feet directed him to where he needed to go without him even thinking about it while his mind was elsewhere.

He had walked these halls many times with his father when he was younger, and even more frequently after he became a priest of the Church of the Holy Light for work related purposes, such as now.

He, like many priests of the Church, had been working tirelessly for weeks to care for the many refugees of Stormwind who had fled the Horde destruction of their home here in Lordaeron.

As one of the most venerated priests of the Church and personal student of the Archbishop, he himself had been directing a vast majority of the Church’s efforts while his master was taking part in the Council of Seven Nations. It was some of the hardest work and greatest test of his leadership ability that he’d ever faced, but one he took head on with determination to see it through, as the people of Stormwind needed it.

As it was, their efforts had finally solidified enough that he was not needed to constantly direct things, and other Church functionaries could handle the day-to-day operations so he could better assist his master here during the talks.

Those refugees in need of healing and care were now healthy, temporary shelter had been made to house the majority of them in, if not in luxury, then at least in comfort. All had enough to eat and drink, and the dangers of violence or outbreaks of disease due to the large influx of people to Capital City had for now been addressed and was being handled.

Let it never be said that the Church lacked the people, resources, and drive to assist those in need of the Light’s embrace, a fact which he took pride in. But even then he wished he could do more, especially when he cared for the physical and emotional wounds of those in need.

Still, the Light gave him strength and he would ensure that strength was put towards others just as his master had taught him.

That is why when on his way to the Council Chambers when he heard the sound of sobbing his feet automatically directed him towards it, his body acting on its own to come to the aid of others.

The source of the sobbing made itself known quickly in the form of a young man, Prince Varian Wrynn of Stormwind, who was curled up in an alcove not far from the Council Chambers.

It was sadly a sight that Turalyon had become all too familiar with in recent days, and so acted as he had done hundreds if not thousands of times before.

“What ails you, my son?” Turalyon said gently as he made himself known, causing the young prince to nearly jump in shock. “Forgive my intrusion, your highness, but you are in pain and as a servant of the Light, I wish to help in whatever capacity I can. What causes you such grief?”

Prince Varian seemed unwilling to speak, simply burying his head into his knees.

“I know your people would be in dire straits if they knew you were in such a state and I did nothing to help you,” Turalyon tried a different tactic. “I am one of many who have been working hard to give them relief, and they all say how much they love their prince who protected them, spirited them away to safety, and even now visits their camps to give them food and kind words in these dark times. Surely they would want the same for you…”

That seemed to reach the prince as he raised his head and looked at Turalyon fully, his eyes red and tears staining his cheeks.

“They’re coming… They’re coming and it's gonna happen all over again!” Prince Varian finally spoke up with great emotion in his voice. “The Horde, they’ve taken Khaz Modan and done who knows what to the dwarfs and gnomes there. They’ve burned down two more kingdoms and- and we still do nothing! Gilneas and Alterac are even threatening to leave the talks entirely! Can’t they see that we need to work together?! That if we do nothing everywhere will become just like Stormwind, only this time we won’t have anywhere to run?!”

Throughout all of this Prince Varian still cried, his voice cracking under the strain of grief and anger, so full of hopelessness.

“I promised my father and mother I would protect our people… and I’m failing them…” he said slowly. “I should have died that day, not father or mother. They would have made things better rather than sitting there uselessly. I can’t do anything, and everything will be ruined because of it!”

Then he turned away from Turalyon's gaze in shame.

“They must hate me… my people should hate me… the Light has abandoned us all,” he finished in a broken tone.

At those words, something in Turalyon broke. He raised from where he was kneeling next to the young prince, grabbed him gently on the shoulder, and spoke up.

“Come with me,” he said as he guided the prince and started walking towards the Council Chambers.

“Wh—What? Why?” the sudden order threw the prince off.

“To knock some sense into some foolish men,” Turalyon said with determination as he led the prince forward, his earlier outburst of emotions and shock making him easy to move along.

They soon reached the entrance to the Council Chambers, loud voices easily heard through the thick doors guarded by several knights.

“Halt! The Council is in session and only—” one of the knights attempted to stop him as he got close.

“I am the personal assistant of the Archbishop and guest of the Prince of Stormwind. You will allow me entry,” Turalyon stated, not even giving the knight a chance to respond as he pushed past him and thrust the doors open with a slam, shocking those inside as he kept on moving.

Ignoring the various shouts of ‘what is the meaning of this?!’ and ‘who dares interrupt us?!’ Turalyon simply slammed the doors closed behind him, guided the prince to sit in the empty seat next to Sir Lothar, and finally climbed up upon the table that the Council was seated around. He ignored their shocked exclamations as he noted even his master, Alonsus, staring up at him in shock and worry as he stood above them all.

He slowly turned his head around the table, his gaze resting longer on the kings of Gilneas and Alterac, before finally speaking up.

“You are all fools!” he yelled out, the Light within him empowering his voice.

He was furious, more so than he had ever been before in his life because these men, these supposedly wise and good rulers of the various realms of mankind, had made a child who had experienced some of the worst horrors this world could throw at him make him doubt his self worth and the Light’s faith in him.

The Light was with them all, and he would prove it.

“You have sat here and quarreled endlessly for weeks, all the while the Horde advances upon us all! You argue over meaningless things, jockey for power, play political games, bring up old grievances and all manner of nonsense while an otherworldly force bent on our conquest and destruction inches ever closer! Stormwind has already been destroyed, its people scattered or worse, and you are wasting time politicking each other while we should be uniting to face this foe head-on! If you do not then every kingdom will be destroyed and every city burned as Stormwind has been, and your children orphaned like Prince Varian if they survive at all!”

Turalyon turned to said prince and Sir Lothar, his gaze one of pride.

“These two here have survived more than anyone has in generations. They protected their people even when all else was lost, and came to us for help. And still, they put themselves forward to assist in fighting back the Horde so that none of us have to face what they did! But we are failing them by not acting here and now while our foes grow ever closer.”

He turned back to the Council.

“The dwarves and gnomes of Khaz Modan are just another victim of our inaction, two peoples’ who have done no harm to anyone and have been kind neighbors to us all. The Horde took their land and even now prepares to do the same to us as well, but you are still not acting!”

Turalyon felt the Light burn within him, watching as it visibly glowed from his body and caused the council members to flinch back slightly at the light, besides his own master who merely looked upon him with wide eyes.

“If humanity fails to unite as our ancestors once did against the trolls we will be remembered as a people that could've saved Azeroth but were too proud to put aside our political ambitions to do so. But if humanity does form an alliance we can change history and become the guardians of Azeroth against not just the Horde, but any threat that might threaten it! Lands and people exist beyond our shore of good folk who deserve protection the same way Stormwind did! Other worlds exist beyond our own that could hold all manner of good and ill things that we should prepare for! And who knows what else exists beyond our imagination!”

The Light seemed to blaze from Turalyon then, but instead of blinding those present, it drew them in as he kept on speaking.

“So let us come together and prove to every speck of darkness and evil that exists in the universe that when they show themselves and seek nothing but death and destruction that the forces of good are there to oppose them! That heroes will rise to the occasion to beat them back! That while they seek conflict just for the sake of it we seek it to make peace and so that our children might live and grow in safety!”

Turalyon felt like a bonfire then, the words coming from somewhere he could not explain but knew must be said.

“Let us join together for the sake of all! Let us join together in the name of the Light! Let us join together to become the Alliance I know we can be! But most importantly…”

Turalyon burned like a star, and found its warm embrace.

“Let us join together to beat those bastards back!”

At the end of those words, a burst of Light emanated from Turalyon and washed over the gathered rulers, causing the Council Chambers to explode into applause and shouts of agreement.

Prince Varian showed none of the grief and doubt from earlier, simply smiling ear to ear as he cheered Turalyon on.

Greymane and Perenolde, the two staunchest opponents against the formation of an alliance due to their differing goals also clapped and cheered as if none of that mattered anymore.

Even his master was on his feet, clapping and cheering at Turalyon while also showing more pride than he had even seen the archbishop show before.

As the clapping and cheering died down King Menethil spoke up with a raised hand.

“Well said, Father Turalyon… though if we are going to do anything else today we will need our table back,” the man said with a smirk.

Oh… Turalyon had honestly forgotten about that sometime during his impassioned speech. At the realization, the Light around him seemed to die down in an instant as he felt his face heat up.

“My apologies, your majesty,” Turalyon bowed respectfully as he quickly made his way off the table, King Trollbane giving him a strong pat on the back as he stepped off near the ruler.

“Well… after all that I suppose it's as good a time as any to ask this again,” King Menethil spoke up. “All those in favor of a military alliance of all the human kingdoms, say aye.”

“Aye!” King Trollbane said enthusiastically.

“Aye,” King Perenolde said with a nod and smile.

“Aye,” King Greymane grunted.

“Aye,” Lord Proudmoore said with a grin.

“Aye,” Archbishop Alonsus said with pride.

“Aye/Aye!” Sir Lothar and Prince Varian said at once, the latter looking a touch embarrassed as he realized he did so with much vigor, but the old knight simply nodded with a smile at him and with a hand on his shoulder.

“Aye,” Archmage Antonidas said with a pleased look in his eye as he stared around the table.

“And the ayes have it,” King Menethil declared. “Let it henceforth be known on this day the Alliance of Lordaeron, as the hosts of this event, is thus forged. And with its forging that we work together to push back the Horde from whatever dark hole they crawled out from and whatever else might threaten our lands. Let it be so.”

“Let it be so!” All those present said at once.

While many details would have to be gone over before an official public announcement could be made, what could not be denied was that this day history was made.

The Alliance of Lordaeron had been born.

---

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that today,” Alonsus couldn’t help but chuckle as he and his student returned to the privacy of his office back at the Cathedral.

There was still much for the Council to talk about, but for now, it was mostly things outside of what the Church could offer.

Alonsus did emphasize that the upcoming war would push all men to their limits in terms of talent, courage, and resolve, but he was confident that the Holy Light would be with them. He gave them his blessing upon the newly formed Alliance and pledged the Church of the Holy Light to the cause of the Alliance in any way they could. He also promised to help raise funs for Stormwind's restoration once the crisis had been dealt with.

“I deeply apologize for my actions and any embarrassment I put on the Church, your holiness,” Turalyon deeply apologized to his master.

“Do you?” he simply asked.

There was silence for several moments.

“...No, I truly don’t,” Turalyon admitted.

“Good,” Alonsus praised his student. “You did what you felt had to be done, what was right, and clearly the Light agreed and helped you in your foolishly brave endeavor.”

“I simply said what had to be said,” Turalyon tried to downplay his actions.

“You acted when you saw the suffering of another, moved without thinking to do the right thing, and the Light rewarded you for your efforts by inspiring all that heard you the truth of your words,” Alonsus said with a proud smile. “There will still be much work to do and feathers to unruffle once they are no longer affected by the Light’s grace, but I believe that it will be much easier now that they understand the stakes. You’ve done more to represent what the Church is about this day than I’ve done during my whole time as Archbishop.”

“Your holiness! I would never say—” Turalyon tried to disagree with his master.

“Well… maybe just a bit less now that I think about it more,” Alonsus corrected himself with a smirk.

At those words Turalyon’s worry evaporated immediately, replaced with mirth as both men started laughing outright.

Soon the laughter faded, replaced once more with duty and resolve.

“This war will be unlike anything mankind has faced since the Troll Wars, maybe even greater than that,” Alonsus reminded his student. “The Church is ill-equipped to face such a challenge head on… as our brothers of the Northshire Abbey unfortunately learned, may the Light watch over them.”

“Let the Light guide their souls,” Turalyon returned. “But the Church has other strengths, we’ve never been warriors but healers to all those in need.”

“Yes, we are, but there are times when a healer must take up the sword to protect those same people in need. The Light encourages us to grow and improve, and sometimes change entirely if the need is great. A warrior can still call upon the Light to watch them in battle, so why can’t that be so in truth?” Alonsus pondered aloud.

“You holiness?” Turalyon asked curiously.

“I’ve had a number of illuminating conversations with a newly made friend who’s shown great interest, and dare I say potential, in channeling the Light. Mayhaps the Light itself guided him and those with him here for a reason. I cannot say for certain, but I like to believe so,” Alonsus went on to explain before heading over to his desk and picking up a bound scroll. “It has led to an… extreme idea that might change the Church forever, but one I think will be needed. I plan to go over it with the Supreme Commander, though he knows it not yet, after the public announcement of the Alliance is made. From there… who knows, but I believe the Light will support us.”

“What idea, your holiness?” Turalyon asked directly.

“One that I hope you will take part of, my apprentice. You and those like you who are driven to do what is true and right,” Alonsus explained.

Turalyon needed to hear no other words to convince him.

“You will have my support,” he replied earnestly.

“At least hear about my idea before agreeing outright!” Alonsus said in faux shock. “Must I fear for your coin purse when you walk through the market each day?!”

“Only if a pretty smile asks for it,” Turalyon replied with a smirk.

Once more both men laughed, comfortable in each other’s presence and that of the Light.

For it was for moments such as this that Turalyon fought.

Chapter Text

Krivax skittered into King Terenas’ imperial chamber, with Anub’rekhan following closely behind him, intent on finding the other members of the nerubian delegation before the meeting began. Fortunately, it seemed like Antonidas had already magically expanded the size of the room and the hallways, likely to accommodate not only the Spiderlord but also the large number of nobles in attendance.

King Terenas was already present and sat comfortably on his throne as he spoke quietly to a few of his advisors.

Unlike last time when the balconies overlooking the throne room were empty, this time Krivax could see many important figures watching the proceedings from above. He could even see an ambassador from Quel’thalas, which was surprising considering the elves had not offered any input into the matter up until this point.

They still haven’t even sent anyone to meet us, Krivax thought, feeling a bit bitter.

Looking through the room, Krivax could see rulers from each of the kingdoms speaking with their diplomats. Turning to look in the direction of the representatives from Stormwind, he noticed an old-looking mage, who Krivax assumed could only be Khadgar, speaking to Anduin Lothar. This was his first time seeing the mage, and Krivax made certain to memorize his face.

After all, Khadgar was a man who would be extremely important to the future of Azeroth.

The only ones who were absent seemed to be the Gilneans. It was most likely them who everyone was waiting on.

A quick glance around the room showed that the other Viziers were already present and were standing off in a portion of the room reserved for observing diplomats, speaking with Antonidas as they waited for the meeting to begin. They weren’t exactly difficult to pick out of a crowd.

With his fellow Viziers spotted, Krivax walked further into the room and began making his way to them. He idly noted that one of the Kul’Tiran Tidesages was looking at him with a strange expression, but Krivax had long gotten used to getting strange looks from non-nerubians and they were hardly the only ones staring, so he paid it no mind.

As he grew close, Krivax realized that the Viziers were protected by some kind of ward that made it impossible to understand the conversation that they were having with Antonidas. It was only when Krivax passed through it that their words didn’t sound like gibberish to him.

“---scuss this matter more at a later time. For now, I must prepare for the meeting ahead.”

“Of course, Archmage,” said Vizer Crinis, sounding more respectful than Krivax remembered her being. “We will bring your proposal to the High King. I’m certain he will find it as interesting as we do.”

Hadix seemed content to let Crinis speak for them both, but even he seemed more interested than Krivax expected.

Antonidas nodded solemnly to them both and left, presumably to go take his seat as Dalaran’s representative.

“Greetings, I take it your meeting with the Archmage was more productive than expected,” said Anub’rekhan as soon as the Archmage had passed through the ward.

“It was actually quite fascinating, Spiderlord,” said Vizier Crinis, nodding to both of them in greetings. “Apparently, Dalaran wishes to purchase some of the artifacts we use to control our beasts. They wish to use them for their war with the Horde and are willing to pay a steep price for any creatures that could be useful to them.”

“Indeed, Archmage Antonidas seemed quite pleased after we informed him about the arachnathids and the large variety of spiders we have at our disposal,” said Hadix.

Krivax couldn’t help but feel a little shocked after they explained the situation. This kind of development was something that he had not seen coming at all, and implied that the nerubians might be getting involved in the war as… some kind of weapons dealer?

Those so-called ‘weapons’ being deadly creatures that had been biologically manipulated by magic, of course.

“That is good news,” said Anub’rekhan, sounding incredibly pleased. “It will allow us to test some of our beasts in a way that they haven’t been in millennia. Perhaps if this information proves itself to be useful to the leadership, the High King may allow me to play with a few of the orcs myself.”

The last part was said in a wistful tone that made it clear how much the Spiderlord wished he could test himself against the orcs.

“What have they offered in exchange?” Krivax asked curiously.

“Dalaran has offered to trade large amounts of unique magical reagents, significantly beyond what the beasts are worth in terms of gold,” said Crinis, a hint of greed in her voice. “I have no doubt that the Circle of Viziers will push heavily for this deal. It will allow us to create many more enchanted items than we could have otherwise.”

Krivax was glad that it was something practical. Enchanted weapons and armor required resources to create, and Azjol-Nerub would certainly need them in the future.

And supplying the Alliance with creatures to fight the Horde with would hopefully help them end the war sooner and with fewer casualties. As far as he could tell, it was a win-win for everyone.

Krivax wanted to ask for further details, but he suddenly found himself distracted when he noticed the Gilneans entering the imperial chamber. King Greymane looked as ornery as ever as he strode toward his seat, not looking the slightest bit contrite over making everyone wait.

As soon as he sat down, King Terenas didn’t hesitate to begin the meeting

“We are all here then?” Terenas asked, though of course he could see that was the case. “Good. Time is of the essence, as every moment we fail to marshal our respective militaries, the Horde draws nearer. They have already taken Khaz Modan and what information we’ve gained since shows they don’t appear to be in any rush to stop their move north. The Council of the Seven Nations has negotiated tirelessly since the threat of the Horde became clear to us, and we have succeeded in reaching several agreements, though there are few things that remain to be agreed upon.”

At the king's words, each of the other monarchs nodded in agreement, making Krivax feel a little bit curious about which points they had actually managed to agree on. Fortunately, Terenas began answering that just a few moments later.

“In order to combat the threat of the Horde, our nations have agreed to form a unified force so that we might fight the Horde together,” said Terenas, causing several in the audience who hadn’t known how far the negotiations had gone to break out into whispers. The human kingdoms had not been united since the breakup of the Arathorian Empire, so this was certainly a historic moment. “We have also agreed that Daelin Proudemoore, Lord Admiral of Kul’Tiras, will serve as the Grand Admiral of our united naval forces.”

Krivax turned his gaze toward the Kul’Tirans, only to see that Admiral Proudmoore remained completely stoic. The selection made sense and was likely an easily made decision. Kul’Tiras was the foremost naval power in the Eastern Kingdoms, and there was not a single person from the other kingdoms who even approached the amount of experience that Proudmoore had.

“Thank you, King Terenas,” said Proudmoore, his powerful voice carrying throughout the room as he nodded his head respectfully to the old king. “I’m grateful for the trust that you and my fellow rulers have bestowed on me. If the Horde wishes to travel any farther north than Khaz Modan, then they will need to either pass through Thandol Span or invade by sea. I swear to you all on my kingdom, my house, and my honor, that any primitive navy that the Horde attempts to muster will be sent to the bottom of the sea.”

At those words, many of the observers broke out into appreciative applause, likely fully confident that the Admiral would live up to his promises.

If my letter to Krasus actually manages to prevent Alexstrasza from being captured, then he actually might.

It was only because of the dragons’ support that the Horde invasion fleet ever defeated and bypassed the Lord Admiral’s forces in canon after all. If the Horde did not have any dragons, then the Kul’Tiran navy completely and utterly outclassed them.

“We have also reached an agreement on matters of logistics, such as the amount of economic and military support each nation is willing to provide, ” King Terenas said as soon as the applause began to die down.

Krivax noted that the king gave no specific details on how much each kingdom was actually contributing. He could guess that some of the less enthusiastic kingdoms, such as Gilneas and Alterac, were providing significantly less than they should be.

“The only matter we have left to agree upon before we can formalize our alliance is to choose who will have command over our unified army as its Supreme Commander. It is no boast to say that Lordaeron is the largest of the kingdoms, so I believe it is reasonable that we command the army. Many are the great knights under my banner who can lead us to victory,” said Terenas.

“With all due respect, King Terenas, while I know for a fact that Lordaeron has capable generals, I believe that the best option to lead our forces is myself,” King Trollbane said confidently, not hesitating to put himself forward as soon as the king finished speaking. “Not only do I have the most combat experience of any ruler in the Eastern Kingdoms, but it is my lands that the Horde is likely to invade first. Let the people of Stromgarde lead humanity united once more!”

“You are delusional if you believe any of my men will listen to you, Trollbane,” said King Perenolde, quick to interject. “My own man, General Hath, is just as experienced as you and more used to fighting against impossible odds. What we need more than anything is a leader who is clever and has an abundance of wisdom, not a brute fist.”

The dig was not unsubtle at all, Trollbane glaring at the man for it.

Krivax watched as the various rulers broke out into arguments, though knowing what he knew about who they would eventually choose, he wondered how much of it was real and how much was political theater.

Just as the arguments seemed to be reaching their peak, Archbishop Faol stood up from where he was sitting, immediately causing the room to grow quiet.

“While the Church of the Holy Light remains committed to supporting this alliance, regardless of who leads its armies, I would like to put forward my own recommendation for the position of Supreme Commander,” Archbishop Faol said calmly, capturing the attention of everyone present.

Even if he had no armies himself, everyone knew that the Archbishop was a hugely influential figure and his recommendation would be taken seriously.

“There is only one person here who has the most experience fighting against our current enemy, and who, more than any other, deserves the opportunity to lead our forces against them,” said the Archbishop, turning his gaze to Anduin Lothar.

If this was political theater, then the look on Lothar’s face was enough to convince Krivax that he had not been informed.

“Anduin Lothar has served faithfully as the Champion of Stormwind for many years and is the last true descendant of the ancient Arathi bloodline. He fought the Horde bravely for several years, without aid, and saved innumerable lives by organizing its evacuation when Stormwind could fight no longer. I could think of nobody else who is more fit to serve as our Supreme Commander.”

With that said, the Archbishop returned to his seat and Krivax listened closely to conversations that broke out in the chambers.

He knew that each of the kings wanted to be in charge, but they were dead set against seeing any other ruler in their place and commanding their forces. Not only was Lothar not a king, thus neutral in the power struggle of the northern kingdoms, but he also had a prestigious bloodline that made him noble enough that none of the rulers felt like they were being slighted. That, his experience, and the potential aid that Quel’thalas might offer as a result of his bloodline made picking him the obvious choice.

He would also be driven towards defeating the Horde and retaking Stormwind above all else.

The conversations soon grew increasingly positive to the idea, and it wasn’t long before King Terenas was asking Lothar if he was willing to accept the charge.

Lothar was obviously shocked, but it didn’t take long before his expression settled into one of intense determination.

“I accept the charge,” he replied, his voice heard clearly by everybody present. “I will lead our forces against the Horde.”

“And do my fellow monarchs agree with this decision?” asked Terenas, sweeping his gaze through the chamber.

None of the gathered rulers raised any objections, including Greymane and Perenolde.

“Then there is nothing left that needs to be agreed upon,” said King Terenas, his expression growing dignified as he prepared to make the announcement that everyone present knew would go down in history. “Then I, King Terenas Menethil the second, hereby declare the founding of the Alliance of Lordaeron! We shall stand together, united, as our ancestors did long ago, in the Arathorian Empire! And it is only fitting, then, that our commander hails from that ancient ruling stock. We, the kings of the Alliance, appoint Lord Anduin Lothar, Champion of Stormwind, as our Supreme Commander!”

The chambers immediately burst into cheers and applause as the gathered nobles expressed their enthusiastic support for the Alliance and its Supreme Commander. There was hardly anyone left who was not worried about the Horde, so everyone was glad to see something finally being done.

“Finally,” said Anub’rekhan, his voice more gleeful than Krivax had ever heard from a Spiderlord. “I have been waiting for this since we learned about the Horde. I look forward to seeing whether or not these humans live up to the might of their vrykul ancestors.”

“Had I heard you say such a thing before we came to the Eastern Kingdoms, I would have considered you ridiculous, Spiderlord,” said Vizier Crinis, a complicated expression on her face as she watched the cheering humans. “But I have found myself surprised again and again by what I have seen in Dalaran. Perhaps these humans will surprise me again.”

Hadix didn’t offer his own opinion, but Krivax knew his mentor well enough that he could tell that the Vizier’s opinion of humans was also slowly evolving. Nothing close to liking them beyond maybe a few in Dalaran he considered peers, but Krivax could notice that he had a certain amount of respect for them that didn’t exist before.

“Supreme Commander Lothar, is there anything that you wish to say before we bring this meeting to a close and start preparing for war in truth?” asked Terenas once the cheering began to die down.

Anduin Lothar was quiet for several moments as the most powerful people in the Eastern Kingdoms all turned their attention to him. Krivax didn’t know what was running through the man’s mind, and he couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling.

“My fellow men and women of the Alliance, I stand before you today as a man humbled by the weight of the duty and trust that has been placed upon my shoulders,” said Anduin Lothar, his deep voice ringing throughout the otherwise silent chamber. “As you know, our lands and our lives are under threat from a vicious and barbaric enemy, the Horde.”

Lothar paused, his expression filled with emotion.

“They arrived in Stormwind several years ago and immediately began storming our lands, laying waste to our homes, and slaughtering our people, and every attempt at diplomacy was met with scorn and violence,” Lothar continued, his voice beginning to fill with rage. “It was only a few years later that we learned that these… creatures came from another world, one which they destroyed with their vile magics. There can be no peace in our lands as long as the Horde continues to exist, otherwise, our world will see the same fate as their own.”

Krivax could see that Lothar’s words were beginning to make many of the gathered nobles uncomfortable. None of them wanted to believe that their lands could end up like Stormwind, or that the Horde could possibly be a threat to the entire world.

“Ever since they arrived, the Horde has pushed ever northward, but no longer. No longer will we cower in fear. No longer will we turn a blind eye to the suffering that these monsters are causing to this world!” Lothar shouted, causing his audience to grow excited. “Today I stand before you as Supreme Commander of the Alliance, and I pledge to you all that I will do everything in my power to defend our lands and destroy the Horde.”

Where before there was concern at the threat presented, now it seemed like Lothar’s words were energizing those listening to them. Nobles from all the gathered human kingdoms seemed determined, eager, and maybe even excited to face the great evil of their time.

“I know that this will not be an easy task. The orcs are a formidable foe, and they will stop at nothing to see us crushed beneath their boots. But we are the Alliance! Just as the trolls could not hope to defeat the combined might of humanity, the Horde will fare no better! Our armies will not rest until we secure safety for our people, and victory for the Alliance!”

As the chamber broke out into rapturous cheers and applause, Krivax couldn’t but join them, ignoring his mentor's mild disapproval. He knew that this was a moment that he would likely remember for the rest of his life.

Korialstrasz flew as fast as he could as he closed in on his beloved’s location. If the contents of the mysterious letter were correct, then they were rapidly approaching the point where the orcs would ambush her with the Dragon Soul.

The letter hadn’t given him an exact location, but they were close enough to Grim Batol that Korialstrasz could feel himself being consumed by worry and rage.

Fortunately, it seemed that Alexstrasza and his fellow consorts had stopped on one of the mountains that made up the Highlands to rest. As he flew, Korialstrasz kept his eyes peeled for any orcs wielding the Dragon Soul or, Titans forbid, Deathwing himself. It wouldn’t do if he managed to get himself captured due to a momentary lack of vigilance.

Korialstrasz didn’t know what he would do if he ran in the Aspect of the Black Dragonflight, but he hoped that if he did, he would be able to at least make his death loud enough to warn his queen. When he heard a dragon’s roar echoing through the Highlands, Korialstrasz believed for a moment that his worst fear was coming true.

However, once he calmed down he recognized the call as coming from Elorasz, his beloved’s second youngest consort. It didn’t sound to be one of pain or anger, so it was likely that his fellow consort had simply noticed his approach and was greeting him. Korialstrasz didn’t hesitate to let out his own call in response, one filled with all the worry that had filled him from the moment that he had received the letter.

Perhaps that was why his queen and his fellow consorts were waiting for him with worried expressions once he flew over the mountain separating them. However, Korialstrasz didn’t worry about any of that, because as soon as he saw that his beloved was safe and had not been captured by the orcs, he flew into her side and embraced her.

Most other dragons would have likely been knocked over, but Alexstrasza’s true form had always been much larger than his own.

“Korialstrasz? Why are you here and not in Dalaran? What’s wrong?” asked Alexstrasza, crooning with worry. Tyranastrasz, Rostrasz, and Elorasz also displayed their concern as they surrounded the two of them.

A part of him wanted to continue enjoying the moment, but Korialstrasz knew that he couldn’t. If there was any chance that Deathwing was truly nearby, then he couldn’t afford to delay telling his queen for even a moment.

“My queen, I’m here because someone sent me an anonymous letter with information that I found… highly concerning,” said Korialstrasz.

He quickly began explaining the sequence of events that had led him to leave Dalaran and chase after his queen, using his perfect memory to recite the contents of the letter word for word.

When Korialstrasz first started speaking, neither his fellow consorts nor his beloved seemed to believe him or take the matter too seriously. But when it became clear that the letter he had received contained information that nobody but them should know, their expressions began to grow solemn.

After he finished explaining the situation entirely and what Deathwing and the orcs allegedly planned to do to Alexstrasza once they captured her with the Dragon Soul, the only thing stopping the gathered dragons from rampaging was the risk that Deathwing might be near.

“Do you have any idea who sent this letter?” asked Tyranastrasz, the first among the consorts to calm down.

“I don’t know for certain, but I believe that it most likely came from the nerubians,” Korialstrasz said immediately. “They are the only ones in Dalaran who would possess magic that I would not recognize, although I could not begin to guess how they might have learned about the Dragon Soul.”

“The nerubians live close to Wyrmrest Temple, but I would not expect them to know this much,” said Alexstrasza, struggling to compose herself after hearing that Deathwing might still live. “I regret now that we don’t have anyone living in their kingdom.”

“Have you considered that the letter might have been sent from a member of the Black Dragonflight?” asked Elorasz. “It’s possible that one of them might have managed to escape the Old Gods’ corruption.”

“I have not, but it is something that I will consider later,” Korialstrasz replied. “For now, I believe it is best if we deal with the matters at hand. We must verify whether or not the contents of the letter are accurate.”

“How do you intend to do that? The Dragon Soul cannot be scryed, and I will not allow any of us to risk approaching Grim Batol if there’s even a chance that we could be captured,” Alexstrasza said firmly before continuing with sorrow. “If what you say is true then we’ve already lost Orastrasz and I will not have you waste your lives just to protect me.”

We’d all do it anyway, Korialstrasz couldn’t help but think but did not say aloud. His beloved cared so much, it was her worst weakness as well as her greatest strength.

“Simple, even if we cannot scry the Dragon Soul, if I scry a general area and the Dragon Soul is inside of it, then its anti-scrying protections will be obvious,” Korialstrasz said confidently.

It was a well-known weakness of anti-scrying magic that it could not fully protect an object if the mage that was doing the scrying knew its location. That was why mages needed to go out of their way to make sure that the physical locations that powerful magical artifacts were hidden in remained secret.

Most protections would make the object seem like a missing spot in any images produced by scrying. Even the most advanced protections, which made the object seem to blend into its surroundings, still left behind an effect on the scrying spell that could be noticed by an experienced mage.

And if there was one thing that Korialstrasz had in abundance, it was experience.

After explaining his reasoning, everyone agreed and Korialstrasz quickly cast a scrying spell that would look into Grim Batol. Immediately, an image of orcs inhabiting the dwarven fortress materialized in the air in front of them. Korialstrasz ignored the orcs as he swiftly searched through Grim Batol, paying attention to his magic for any sign that it was being affected by an anti-scrying spell.

Korialstrasz prayed to the Titans that the contents of the letter were just a sick lie and that he would not find anything of note inside the fortress.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it didn’t take very long before it became clear to them that the letter had not been lying.

“Stop there, Korialstrasz,” said Alexstrasza, her voice filled with growing alarm. “That orc. There’s something different about him.”

Korialstrasz focused his spell on the orc that his queen had pointed out, a smaller-looking one that was leisurely walking through the fortress. Korialstrasz couldn’t see anything different about this orc in particular, but that only lasted until the orc suddenly stopped and turned to look up, directly at the scrying spell.

“Korialstrasz, end the spell now!” Alexstrasza shouted in panic. “That’s no orc, that’s Deathw—”

Alexstrasza didn’t get to finish as the orc suddenly raised his hands and the projected image was immediately filled with pitch-black darkness that filled Korialstrasz with dread. Several massive tentacles unfurled from the darkness and threw themselves at each of the dragons with a speed that didn’t allow Korialstrasz to react.

It was only after one of the tentacles had wrapped itself around one of his wings that he realized that it was covered in mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth.

If his beloved hadn’t destroyed the tentacles a moment later with her fiery breath, Korialstrasz was certain that he would have sustained an injury that would have made it difficult for him to fly.

“Is anyone injured?” asked Alexstrasza as soon as the corrupted scrying spell and the last tentacle were destroyed.

“I have a small injury on my leg, but I believe I should be fine,” said Tyranastrasz.

“Good, we can see to treating it later, but we must leave this place at once,” Alexstrasza said urgently. “That was not an orc, it was Deathwing. I would recognize him anywhere. We must leave before he arrives, he is far too powerful for me to defeat without the help of the other Aspects.”

None of them argued, eager to get away from this place as quickly as possible.

“I’ll teleport us away from here,” said Korialstrasz, already beginning to cast the spell. “I won’t be able to take all five of us very far, but it should be enough that Deathwing will not be able to easily find us.”

As the Dragon Queen and her consorts disappeared in a flash of violet light, Korialstrasz was filled with a mix of complicated emotions. He was happy that he had saved his beloved from a terrible fate, but he was also filled with dread at the knowledge that Deathwing was still alive and had access to the Dragon Soul.

As long as the corrupted Aspect retained control over the only artifact that could guarantee his victory over the other Aspects and every other dragon, how could they hope to defeat him?

Deathwing seethed with silent rage as his spell was destroyed by the familiar magic of Alexstrasza.

He didn’t bother wasting his time chasing after the fleeing Aspect, as he knew that she would be gone by the time he arrived. Right now, the only thing that concerned him was figuring out how the Red Dragonflight had discovered his plans. There was no reason for them to scry Grim Batol otherwise!

Deathwing had just been walking through the fortress in his orc guise, eagerly imagining the moment when his plans could come to fruition and the orcs dragged the dragon queen into the prison that he had prepared for her.

He had wanted to be in the fortress so that he could watch the moment she was chained with his own eyes.

Everything was going exactly to plan when he suddenly felt himself being watched through a scrying spell and felt the presence of Alexstrasza on the other side! He had known that there was no possibility that the dragon queen had not recognized him, so he didn’t hesitate to destroy the spell and send them back a gift.

Deathwing dearly hoped that he had managed to at least kill one of her pathetic consorts, though any joy at the thought of that was suppressed with rage at what this all meant.

“You! What are you doing just standing around? The Chieftain has ordered everyone t—”

Deathwing silenced the pitiful orc that had walked up behind him by burying his fist in the creature's lungs at a speed faster than its mortal mind could process. It only took a second for Deathwing to summon his shadowflame, burning the creature out of existence in a single agonizing moment.

Killing the orc allowed Deathwing to calm down enough that he could at least think, although he was still absolutely furious.

If Alexstrasza knew that he was here, then any plans he might have of using her as a broodmare and forcing the Red Dragonflight under the Horde’s control were completely and utterly ruined. The Horde would not have any red dragons to use to destroy the human kingdoms, and the Dragonflights would rally their resources to kill him once they were made aware of his return.

Although, as long as he possessed the Dragon Soul, there was little they could do directly for while he couldn’t use it himself his minions could. Though their ability to use it compared to him would be solely lacking it could still be used to bring low an Aspect should they be foolish enough to show themselves, and no other dragons could match him directly.

Deathwing furiously pondered his options for several moments before reaching a conclusion.

I suppose my plans are going to need to change, although if the Dragonflights have discovered me, then there’s no longer any need to be subtle.

There were a few resources that Deathwing had discarded in order not to draw suspicion from his former allies, including the creatures living under the very fortress he was currently standing in.

He could bring in his wayward children to serve him more directly now as well, bring them out of the holes they had been hiding in since his defeat millennia ago. They should even thank him, bringing them out of hiding to strike back against the Dragonflights who had hunted them down since his disappearance.

Still, his Flight was greatly diminished and his mates were too weak to survive giving him more children since his empowerment. Regardless of who he called in, there wouldn’t be enough dragons for the Horde to use… unless…

Maybe the Dragonmaw would have their dragons after all…

Deathwing’s mouth twisted into an evil smile as he considered his now-opened options.

However, before he could do all that, there were a few things that Deathwing needed to do first in Lordaeron before his human identity was discovered. Not only would it be a good chance for him to gather more information on the humans’ alliance, but Deathwing needed to find out how his carefully laid plans were ruined.

Fortunately, his masters were all-knowing, and their whispers directed him to Capital City.

And he had a guess as to why.

Chapter Text

Anub’arak shifted from a deep slumber to perfect clarity in an instant.

The High King of Azjol-Nerub immediately began searching his surroundings to find what had alerted him, only to relax once he did. As the ruler of the most powerful nation in the world, Anub’arak had many enchanted artifacts that served a variety of purposes, and one of them was alerting him that one of his advisors, Elder Nadox, was approaching his chamber.

Anub’arak telepathically directed the skitterers that were cleaning his carapace to leave his chambers as he waited for his advisor’s arrival. The past few years had been some of the busiest of his time as High King, and there was no reason to believe that things would change any time soon so he was not surprised to be awoken ahead of schedule. It was an occurrence that Anub’arak was growing more and more accustomed to in recent times.

As the Elder made his way through the complex system of wards and guards that made up Naxx’kalik, the largest ziggurat in Azjol-Nerub and the ancient home of its High Kings, Anub’rak decided to use the moment to consider recent events. This was a time in which his kingdom was undergoing drastic changes more quickly than ever before, so it was worth taking a moment to gather his thoughts and consider all that had happened.

It started innocently at first, with Anub’arak receiving a report from the Circle of Viziers that Kilah’kuk had begun trading with the surface races. While he had disapproved of such practices, it was not a serious enough matter for Anub’arak to feel compelled to tell an Underking what he should be doing in his own city.

There was no possibility of the tuskarr ever becoming a serious threat to Azjol-Nerub, so why would he be concerned if some strange Initiate decided they wanted to trade with the surface races? Such things had happened before, and it was likely that the Initiate would lose interest and the tuskarr would simply forget about them in a few centuries.

That was before the tuskarr’s shellfish became one of the most popular luxury foods among the higher castes. After that, Anub’arak realized that it was becoming unlikely that trade between Kilah’kuk and the tuskarr was going to cease anytime soon. There were even signs that En’kilah was interested in replicating the success of Kilah’kuk and had considered negotiating a similar agreement with the tuskarr near their own city.

At the time Anub’arak had considered trading with the surface races to be the most significant event to happen in Azjol-Nerb since the Seers began delivering portends of vague and unspecified doom in the kingdom’s future. He had believed that it would be the most important matter that he would have to deal with until their prophesied doom made itself known.

Anub’arak could only look back on his past self and envy his ignorance.

It wasn’t much longer after he first received reports of Kilah’kuk trading with the surface races that Azjol-Nerub learned of a fact that would send a political shockwave throughout the kingdom and would undoubtedly change things forever.

Their belief that the lands they occupied were the only ones to survive the Sundering was incorrect. There was an entire continent across the sea that contained multiple kingdoms, including one made by the long-assumed extinct elves, and two previously unknown sapient species, the so-called ‘gnomes’ and ‘dwarves.’ Reactions to this news had been intense and varied, from extreme curiosity about the new lands to a desire to avoid anything to do with them.

From there, matters began to develop at a speed that surpassed Anub’arak’s expectations. The Viziers had very quickly sent proposals to send a diplomatic delegation to the new continent, and several of his advisors made suggestions that they establish a settlement there as well. Anub’arak had agreed to the former with hopes that the delegation would gather additional information and started giving serious consideration to the latter.

He was correct to believe that the delegation would send back information that would change how Azjol-Nerub intended to interact with the ‘Eastern Kingdoms.’ In fact, it was beginning to feel like there wasn’t a month that went by where Anub’arak didn’t learn something new that changed his kingdom’s plans for the future.

The delegation sent their first report shortly after they arrived in Capital City, which was the aptly named capital city of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. That report had been filled with information about guns, a new form of magic that had captured the attention of Anub’arak’s most loyal Spiderlord, and an army of otherworldly invaders called the Horde. Under normal circumstances, any one of these discoveries would instantly become the center of the High King’s attention, but the times he lived in were anything but normal.

Debates had emerged among his advisors on the best ways to move forward, and orders had been given to the delegation to learn as much as they could so that they could make informed decisions. The Viziers in particular were extremely interested in gathering information and seemed to have become the main driving force pushing against Azjol-Nerub’s insular nature.

More than one Vizier had come to Anub’arak with urgent requests that the delegation send back knowledge about guns and the Light so that they might attempt to replicate them. Research into both was ongoing, but the High King was not expecting any results for several more months.

It wasn’t long after that before a portion of the delegation traveled to Dalaran, a city-state run by mages that seemed to serve as the center of magical learning for much of the Eastern Kingdoms. Then the delegation began making claims of advanced enchanting techniques that surpassed what Azjol-Nerub was capable of, and the rulers of Dalaran sent an offer that would have nerubians living and studying in their city.

After considering the matter and analyzing the security risks posed by a portal between Dalaran and En’kilah, Anub’arak eventually decided that the benefits outweighed the costs. The portal was extremely well-guarded from both sides, which was something that he had discovered after asking his advisors to evaluate what would happen if Azjol-Nerub tried to send their own soldiers through, either covertly or otherwise.

In the worst-case scenario, they could always close it whenever they wished.

It was around that same time that the kingdoms of Stormwind and Alterac sent offers to cede portions of their territory to Azjol-Nerub, for a price. Anub’arak had immediately called for a meeting with his advisors and they debated the wisdom of accepting each, both, or neither of the offers that had been presented to them.

It was easy to decide that ‘neither’ was not an option, given that the Seers were still giving warnings of calamity in Azjol-Nerub’s future. Many of the more powerful Seers had made claims that they could feel that the details of the ‘tide of death’ threatening to sweep over their kingdom were beginning to change, but that didn’t alter the fact that Azjol-Nerub would be well-served by having a settlement in the Eastern Kingdoms to flee to should the worse happen.

Anub’arak had eventually settled on only accepting the offer from Alterac. The land that they were offering was simply more valuable, as it was situated in a position that would allow Azjol-Nerub to extend its influence throughout the northern portion of the continent. Not to mention Alterac was merely asking for them to prevent their rival from entering the proposed settlement’s lands, thus making it impossible for Stromgarde to invade them.

From what Anub’arak could tell from the reports he’d received estimating Stromgarde’s strength, it was a simple matter. Truly, as long as Azjol-Nerub was given enough time to establish a permanent portal and fortify their location, the only nation in the Eastern Kingdoms that could hope to threaten them would be Quel’thalas.

Stormwind, on the other hand, was offering them land that they did not even currently own and was asking for Azjol-Nerub’s assistance in regaining it. It had not taken Anub’arak long to dismiss their offer, but depending on how the next meeting with his advisors went that might be a decision that he would need to revisit.

Anub’arak turned his focus back to the present as he felt Nadox pass through the last security checkpoint. Moments later, the Elder was walking into his private chambers while wearing a pensive expression.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for waking you, but I have news that I thought you should hear before the council meeting,” said Elder Nadox, speaking as soon as he entered the chambers.

“Your apologies are unnecessary. You would not wake me if it was not important,” said Anub’arak. “What news do you bring?”

“There are a few things, Your Majesty,” said Nadox, reaching into his spatial bag and retrieving a few documents. “The most recent report from the delegation to the Eastern Kingdoms has arrived. Please, take a look.”

Anub’arak directed one of his beetles to take the documents from his advisor and bring them to him. It had been several weeks since the humans had formed the ‘Alliance of Lordaeron,’ and since then they had been learning more about the Horde’s capabilities. The information contained in the report mostly concerned the Horde, and it didn’t take long for Anub’arak to pick out what had drawn his advisor’s attention.

“How credible are these reports of ‘Death Knights?’” asked Anub’arak, addressing the heart of the matter. “Is this something that our own necromancers are capable of?”

Anub’arak knew that the Circle of Viziers studied Death magic to a certain degree, but such research was highly regulated due to the adverse effects such magic had on the mentality of the practicing mages.

“Not at the scale reported,” Nadox admitted with some worry. “Each Death Knight seems to possess natural necromantic abilities, making them capable of raising dozens of corpses, controlling and maintaining them for long periods of time, while also being skilled in all manner of deadly magics. We are unfamiliar with such undead creatures, so it is difficult to determine what they are truly capable of. These Death Knights freely raise the corpses of their enemies, allies, beasts, and are extremely difficult to truly kill, making each one of them a considerable threat.”

Anub’arak hummed thoughtfully as he considered the information presented to him. He personally did not consider the Horde to be a significant threat to Azjol-Nerub itself, but he could see how many among the kingdom’s leadership would use this information to push for them to more directly involve themselves in the affairs of the Eastern Kingdoms.

Some would see this as a sign that the Horde was related to the prophesied ‘tide of death,’ especially considering these creatures were created through the use of Death magic, although Anub’arak had some doubts. It was impossible to know how literally the portents of Seers should be taken, so it was important to examine all options when dealing with such things.

Although the Death Knights could be a genuine threat if Azjol-Nerub was indeed forced to face them in great numbers. Many of their most powerful weapons would become counterproductive against an enemy that could raise them into undeath and use them against their former masters.

The next meeting of his council was scheduled to determine whether or not Azjol-Nerub would be selling their beasts to the Eastern Kingdoms to use as weapons of war. If they did decide to do so, then any proposal to more directly participate in the war would be emboldened. After all, if they began providing military aid, then they were one step closer to direct intervention.

Anub’arak was reluctant to agree to such proposals, but the benefits of doing so were beginning to look more and more attractive.

“Do we know how the Horde managed to accomplish this?” asked Anub’arak. His impression of the Horde was that they were a collective of unsophisticated creatures that were a danger only due to their numbers and natural strength. From where could they have gained such potent magic?

“Unfortunately, no. We have intelligence reports of their ‘warlocks’ and ‘necrolytes’ being used during the Horde’s war against Stormwind, but they seem to be absent in more recent reports, replaced instead by the death knights,” said Nadox, his mandibles clicking in irritation due to the lack of information. “The Alliance seems to believe that this discrepancy is due to a change in leadership, as according to reports the Horde used to be led by an orc named Blackhand, but has since been taken over by his former second in command, Orgrim Doomhammer.”

“Has Blackhand been slain?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Nadox, nodding grimly. “According to the Alliance, he was killed by Doomhammer shortly before Stormwind’s second siege and conquest, though the details as to why beyond ‘purging the Horde of dishonor’ are scarce.”

Though that did not answer the question about the orcs’ source of magical power, it did at least tell him that this Doomhammer was somehow responsible for the creation of the Death Knights. Still, there were too many questions about the orcs they were currently unable to answer.

Anub’arak found it frustrating how little they knew about the Horde, its internal workings, or the world that they came from. It made it difficult to properly evaluate what they might do and how much of a threat they were. This, coupled with seemingly ridiculous claims made by Stormwind that the Horde was responsible for destroying their own world, made gathering information about them increasingly vital.

“Very well,” said Anub’arak as he sent his beetle away. He would consider the matter further during the meeting with his council. “This was something that could have waited until the meeting. What other news do you bring me, Elder Nadox?”

Elder Nadox seemed to hesitate for a moment before again reaching into his spatial bag and retrieving a new set of documents and handing it to one of the High King’s beetles. “I’ve received results from our investigation, Your Majesty.”

Anub’arak could feel his attention focus as he processed his advisor's words and began reading through the results of his investigation. Results which left him feeling… confused.

Ever since the discovery of the Eastern Kingdoms, it had become clear to him that there was an excessively high degree of coordination among certain members of the Vizier caste. Anub’arak was born and bred to be a leader, he knew Azjol-Nerub better than anyone else, which meant that he knew without a doubt that the speed at which his kingdom had reached a consensus in regard to the Eastern Kingdoms was deeply unnatural.

There were more than a few occasions in which Underkings or Viziers who spouted isolationist rhetoric spontaneously changed their minds. Queens who he knew to be politically agnostic were suddenly incredibly interested in learning everything they could about the Eastern Kingdoms. Nearly every report that he received included pragmatic reasons for which Azjol-Nerub should become more involved in outside affairs. Viziers who he knew to hate each other cooperated without conflict.

Anub’arak did not have proof of a conspiracy, but there were too many small details that pointed to the fact that there was a highly influential and secretive organization pushing for Azjol-Nerub to involve itself in the Eastern Kingdoms. After determining that the majority of this unseen influence was coming from the Viziers, Anub’arak had immediately made orders for his most loyal supporters to investigate.

A part of him had expected to find that a secret organization of scheming Viziers had begun spreading their influence in preparation to overthrow him and take control of the kingdom. But according to the results of his investigations done by both his own supporters and the one done by Elder Nadox, there was no evidence to support anything of the sort.

Then… what do they want? What could drive so many Viziers to cooperate with one another in pursuit of a singular goal?

Anub’arak didn’t know, and that worried him.

“What should we do now, Your Majesty?” Elder Nadox said with concern. The fact that he had independently reached the same conclusion that Anub’arak had reached and come to him with his theories was one of the reasons that he trusted him.

Anub’arak considered the matter for several moments before responding, “For now, we wait and observe. Whatever their goals, they feel strongly enough about them that they are knowingly taking actions that risk their anonymity. No organization with this much influence is so foolish. They understand the risks that they are taking by acting so blatantly, yet they still do so regardless.”

If there was anything that Anub’arak had learned in his long life, it was patience. As long as the organization did not know that he was suspicious, he was certain that an opportunity would present itself.

Elder Nadox nodded, silently accepting the decision of his High King.

Anub’arak and Nadox discussed the upcoming meeting for nearly an hour before the two of them began making their way to the council room. Given the present circumstances, it was important that Anub’arak independently considered each proposal so that he could be sure the conclusions he was reaching were his own.

Walking into the large chamber that was artfully decorated with various tapestries, and finely woven webs, the High King was pleased to see that his entire council was already present and waiting for the meeting to begin. Seer Drannix and Queen Nezar’Azret were in quiet conversation while Vizier Yath’amon, Spiderlord Kal’rat, and Weaver Tuten’kash all stood quietly around the large desk filled with scattered documents in the center of the room.

Anub’arak walked past one of several Obsidian Destroyers that were placed in the room to protect the council and took his place at the head of the table. Several skitterers immediately brought all the relevant documents relating to the meeting before making themselves scarce.

Once he was certain that everything was in order, Anub’arak did not hesitate to begin the meeting. His time was precious and he had no intention of wasting it on pleasantries.

“We are here to discuss the details of Dalaran’s proposal in which we agree to supply the Alliance with our beasts for the purpose of using them to fight the Horde. In addition, we will discuss the contents of the most recent reports sent to us from our delegation to the Eastern Kingdoms. Begin.”

“Your Majesty, I believe it is Azjol-Nerub’s best interest to agree to Dalaran’s proposal,” Seer Drannix said immediately. “The magical reagents that they are offering are worth far more than what we would be giving them, and this is an excellent opportunity for us to test their worth in combat after millennia of improper testing conditions.”

“I do not necessarily disagree, Seer Drannix, but you must acknowledge that there are potential risks to such a decision,” said Vizier Yath’amon, playing his normal role as one of the council’s more cautious voices. “Although the artifacts we use to direct our beasts are not exceedingly advanced, the techniques we use to enchant them are rather unique. We do not know what the outsiders might learn from studying them.”

“Whatever they might learn, it is far less than the knowledge we would gain in return,” said Queen Nezar’Azret. “I and my fellow Queens have been preparing this kingdom for war since the Seers made their prophecy, but there is little we can do without testing the products of our efforts.”

“I agree,” said Spiderlord Yal’rat, one of Azjol-Nerubs oldest generals. “We have been at peace for a very long time. We need to know if it has made us weak.”

“We would also benefit greatly from the promised magical reagents,” said Weaver Tuten’kash. “Enchanted weapons are not cheap. A steady influx of reagents would help blunt the costs of our ongoing efforts to prepare the kingdom for the prophecy.”

Once again, his council was nearly in complete agreement, and Anub’arak hated the hint of suspicion that fact invoked in him. Still, he found himself agreeing with their arguments, and had reached similar conclusions on his own.

“Queen Nezar’Azret, is it feasible to render the beasts infertile before we send them?” asked Anub’arak. It was likely that the outsiders would be able to replicate the enchantments on the artifacts, so it was important that they maintain their control over their supply of the beasts themselves.

Queen Nezar’Azret scoffed lightly before replying, “That would be a simple matter.”

“For the best really. The last thing we would want is for the primitives to lose control over a few of the beasts and allow them to breed out of control in their wilds. They would no doubt throw their ecosystems out of balance, and then we would lose access to reagents and test subjects,” said Vizier Yath’amon.

“Very well, then we will agree to Dalaran’s proposal,” said Anub’arak. “Will there be any problems with the Jormungar? As I understand it, controlling them requires significant amounts of training in addition to the use of Nature magic.”

“Although they are not common, there are a few practitioners of Nature magic among the humans that I believe capable of learning our skills quickly,” said Seer Drannix. “The so-called Harvest-Witches of Gilneas and the Thornspeakers of Kul’Tiras.”

“Good. Then I will leave this matter in the hands of Queen Nezar’Azret. She would know best about which of our beasts we should offer the outsiders,” said Anub’arak.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have been attempting to create a colossal spider similar in size to Maexxna. Although I have not succeeded, I’m sure the Alliance will be pleased to receive some of my failed attempts,” the Queen said enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to hear how they fare against the Horde.”

Maexxna, one of Azjol-Nerub’s most powerful weapons, was a massive spider larger than most Spiderlords. Any creatures created in her image would be truly formidable.

Anub’arak merely nodded before moving on to the next topic of discussion. “I assume that you have all already read the most recent reports coming from our delegation?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Seer Drannix. “And I must say, these Death Knights are highly concerning. If the reports about their capabilities are accurate, then the Horde may be responsible for the visions that have been plaguing our Seers.”

“How so, Seer Drannix? There is no indication that the Horde is powerful enough to threaten Azjol-Nerub. Have your visions suddenly become clear enough that you can perceive that the coming ‘tide of death’ refers to the undead?” Spiderlord Yal’rat said skeptically. “Was there not a time when the Seers were telling us the coming calamity was a plague? Where was this certainty before?”

“We have had this argument before, and I see no need to have it again, Spiderlord,” Seer Drannix said with exasperation. “But even if the Horde is not responsible for the visions, is it not wise to learn more about these Death Knights? Should we not seek to discover how the Horde managed to perform a feat of necromancy beyond what we are capable of? I believe we should send someone to discover the source of the Horde’s magic.”

“Who do you propose we send to do that? We hardly have any people in the Eastern Kingdoms, and those who are there are either students or diplomats,” said Weaver Tuten’kash.

“I’m sure the Alliance would be more than willing to allow a specialized capture team through the portal if we explained our intentions,” said Seer Drannix, waving one of his hands in a dismissive gesture. “And if not, we could always send Vizier Hadix.”

Vizier Hadix was a name that Anub’arak had become well acquainted with in recent times, and was a Vizier who was frequently on his mind, mostly because nothing about Hadix made any sense.

According to reports, Vizier Hadix was born in Azjol-Nerub’s capital city and was promptly taken in by one of the most influential Viziers in the city at the time, Elder Yel’rin, because of his genius. Ever since he was a hatchling, Hadix had shown a prodigious talent for arcane magic and was seen as a rising star within the Circle of Viziers.

That all changed one day when his mentor was discovered dead and Hadix claimed to have killed him in self-defense.

The records of what happened afterward were suspiciously vague, but an investigation was done, Elder Yel’rin was determined to have been practicing ‘dangerous magics,’ and Hadix had been exonerated. From there, Vizier Hadix traveled from city to city, staying for only a few decades at a time and despite being one of the most powerful mages in the kingdom, he barely had any political influence.

Anub’arak found the Vizier to be very suspicious.

It didn’t help that the Initiate who was said to be responsible for discovering the Eastern Kingdoms was his apprentice.

“Vizier Hadix is an important member of our diplomatic delegation,” said Vizier Yath’amon. “His time is better spent ensuring our deal with Alterac does not fall apart. We’ve received reports that they have seemingly become more reluctant to move forward with the deal recently for no apparent reason. Now is not the time to send one of our diplomats away from Capital City.”

“Of course, he would need to be sent after the negotiations with Alterac have been completed,” Seer Drannix agreed. “But changes to our diplomatic team need to be made eventually. Do we intend to leave powerful individuals such as Anub’rekhan and Vizier Hadix in Capital City indefinitely when their talents could be used elsewhere?”

“According to the reports, Vizier Krivax seems to be one of our more effective diplomats. Perhaps he could handle the diplomacy while we send Hadix and Anub’rekhan to investigate the Death Knights?”

“Vizier Krivax is practically a hatchling!”

“If we intend to supply the Eastern Kingdoms with beasts for their war, then perhaps we should reconsider the offer from Stormwind? They might consider ceding some of their lands for powerful enough beasts.”

The council meeting continued for several hours before reaching its conclusion. Anub’arak agreed that they should seek to learn more about the Horde and their magic and that it was worth reopening negotiations with Stormwind to see what they had to offer. The High King felt like it was only a matter of time before Azjol-Nerub would be intervening directly in the war.

Once it was done, Anub’arak bid his advisors farewell and left to continue his duties as High King.

One of the Viziers from the Technological Research Division wanted to present a proposal on beginning the construction of ships capable of traveling the sea. They had even sought advice from the tuskarrs on how to properly construct such a ship.

It was a good idea; portals were highly vulnerable to sabotage and had many limitations, so it would be in Azjol-Nerub’s interest to develop a way to travel to the Eastern Kingdoms by sea.

As Anub’arak walked through the hallways of Naxx’kalik, he couldn’t help but feel that his kingdom was changing far too quickly for him to adjust. Still, as High King, his duty was to do so and lead his kingdom to the best of his ability no matter what happened and he would do till the bitter end if need be.

Chapter Text

“Are you certain that Azjol-Nerub can provide this many arachnathids, Krivax?” asked Archmage Runeweaver, his voice echoing slightly from the other side of the scrying crystal.

After a bit of evaluation, Dalaran eventually decided that the arachnathids would likely be the most useful variant of beast to throw against the Horde. This was for a variety of reasons, including their production rate, general size and strength, and also their ability to dig shallow burrows for ambushes. There was also the fact that Dalaran’s mages generally found it easier to control a single arachnathid rather than a swarm of skitterers.

“It should not be a problem, Ansirem, this is easily within the kingdom’s production capacity,” Krivax said confidently.

The two of them had been in consistent communication ever since Azjol-Nerbub and Dalaran had reached an agreement for the sale of beasts for the war. At some point, the Archmage had insisted that they drop the formalities and call each other by their first names, something Krivax was glad for.

“As it is, the only problem is the jormungar. The artifacts you offered to purchase them are sufficient, but High King is not willing to approve the deal until you’ve shown that the Alliance is capable of properly controlling them.”

The last thing that Azjol-Nerub needed from a diplomatic perspective was for one of their giant worms to go rampaging through a city just because the people they sold it to were unable to control it. Krivax knew that if something like that happened, the aristocrats of the Eastern Kingdoms wouldn’t hesitate to lay the blame at Azjol-Nerub’s feet to save their own skin.

Archmage Runeweaver frowned before speaking with a tone that was clearly frustrated, “Unfortunately, there are very few people here who use Life magic. We have made attempts to recruit from the Thornspeakers, and we’ve even sent an Arcanist to speak to the witches of Gilneas, but our efforts have not had as much success as we hoped.”

“What seems to be the problem?” Krivax asked curiously. He knew very little about either the Thornspeakers or the witches as they were both rather obscure parts of Warcraft lore.

At least Krivax believed they were. He had stopped paying attention to Warcraft sometime before Kul’Tiras was an available zone in the game, so it was possible that was why he had never heard of the Thornspeakers.

“Well, to tell the truth, neither of those groups has a close relationship with their respective kingdoms,” said Runeweaver. “The Thornspeakers generally keep to themselves, but there are many superstitious legends about them in Kul’Tiran society.” Runeweaver paused hesitantly before he continued speaking. “Kul’Tiras is a land of… strange magics. The locals have rightfully learned to be cautious of things they do not understand.”

Krivax took a moment to absorb the Archmage’s words. It made him feel worried whenever he heard about something that wasn’t included in his metaknowledge, such as the ‘strange magics’ of Kul’Tiras. But that was something that he was just going to have to get used to; he had already completely thrown the canon plot off the rails, so he needed to learn how to roll with the punches.

“What about the witches?” Krivax asked after a moment of silence.

“That story is a regretful one,” said Runeweaver, his tone filled with melancholy. “Although the witches of old once used their magic to increase the agrarian yields of their local villages, they were driven nearly to extinction by the persecution of peasants with the rise of organized religion such as the Church of Holy Light, and the arcane magics introduced by the high elves, old traditions were quickly supplanted, trading it for fear and misunderstanding as fewer people dabbled in it. It came to a boiling point a few centuries ago, there was a panic that spread through the Eastern Kingdoms after a coven of witches in Drustvar, a region in Kul’tiras, destroyed a village for some kind of ritual. Nowadays you are very unlikely to see any witches outside of Gilneas.”

Krivax could easily imagine the consequences of an event like that.

“I see… then how does Dalaran intend to resolve this issue?” asked Krivax. “If you wish to control the jormungar, then you will need someone capable of using Nature magic in addition to one of our controlling artifacts.”

“We haven’t had much luck in Gilneas, but we have found a few Nature mages in Kul’Tiras who are willing to come out of isolation and help,” said Runeweaver before letting out an amused chuckle. “Although I would advise against calling them that to their face. They prefer to be referred to as either Thornspeakers or ‘Practitioners of the Old Ways.’”

Krivax thought about them as druids in his head, but he wouldn’t have any problem calling them whatever they wanted. Azeroth was in for some difficult times in the future, and having these kinds of fringe organizations grow more involved in their societies could only be a good thing.

Krivax discussed the logistical details of the deal with Ansirem for nearly an hour before they both began sharing information.

“Ansirem, I’ve recently heard rumors from our enclave in Dalaran that Archmage Krasus hasn’t been seen in the city for several weeks. Has something happened?” asked Krivax. It was difficult to know for certain if his anonymous letter had done its job, so he was hoping he could get some information out of Archmage Runeweaver.

“Everything is fine. Archmage Krasus has simply left Dalaran to take care of a few personal matters.”

“When are you expecting him to return?” asked Krivax, hoping that Krasus hadn’t managed to get himself captured and that the Council of Six was simply covering up his disappearance “It would not be a good sign if one of Dalaran’s leaders appeared to up and vanish from the city not long before the Horde invaded.

“According to the message he sent just yesterday, the Archmage will return to the city in just a few weeks.”

Krivax let out a sigh of relief now that he had probable confirmation that Krasus wasn’t currently chained up in Grim Batol. There was some chance that the messages were faked by Deathwing, but the mad dragon would likely prefer to sow panic by making it seem like the Archmage just disappeared into the night.

“Have the Knights of the Silver Hand truly completed their training so quickly? This seems a bit… rushed,” Ansirem asked dubiously.

Not long after the formation of the Alliance, a few days at most, Archbishop Faol and Supreme Commander Lothar announced that the Church of the Holy Light would be creating a new branch of the church, an order of warriors trained in wielding the Light. The Archbishop had then quickly started training the first members of the so-called ‘Knights of the Silver Hand’; Turalyon, Uther, Tirion Fordring, Saidan Dathrothan, and Gavinrad the Dire.

Krivax knew that these five men would become the first Paladins of Azeroth, and legends in their own rights, but Archmage Runeweaver did not know that.

“Yes, they have. I would not worry too much about it, Ansirem,” said Krivax. “According to Anub’rekhan, they are all highly skilled warriors who are more than prepared for the war.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Runeweaver, sounding relieved. “Although if Admiral Proudemoore’s boasts are to be believed, there may be hope that their skills might not be required.”

Proudemoore had not been shy about declaring that the Horde would never be able to defeat the Alliance’s navy and set foot on the northern portion of the continent. Their only other option was to try and cross the bridge connecting the northern and southern portions of the continent, Thandol Span. Given the efforts that Stromgarde had put in to fortify said bridge, attempting to cross it would be suicide.

Although many believed the Admiral’s claims, Krivax wasn’t sure how to feel about his odds. In canon, he’d primarily failed to hold back the Horde’s navy due to their enslaved dragons, but that was likely no longer a factor. That wouldn’t stop the initial battle, however, as the Horde had relied on their superior numbers to land enough troops in Hillsbrad Foothills.

But on the other hand, Krivax was certain that Deathwing would make efforts to make up for their loss, though how he intended to do that was uncertain. If he wasn’t able to find a replacement, Krivax could easily imagine Deathwing taking the field himself.

If that happened, then the Alliance fleet wouldn’t last long before being burnt to ash. Although, if he did that then he would probably end up facing the combined power of the other Aspects as well as every Archmage in the Eastern Kingdoms.

Not even Deathwing was confident enough to go up against such odds alone.

The two of them speculated some more about the Horde’s chances against the Alliance navy before moving on to other topics.

One of them included Azjol-Nerub's decision to send a few of their elite soldiers to capture some of the Horde's Death Knights for study. After Anub'rekhan heard the news, he insisted on accompanying them on their mission and left Capital City to meet the elite soldiers in Dalaran.

Masruk had wanted to join as well, but he was still too young to be considered an elite soldier, to his extreme disappointment.

After they finished discussing that, Ansirem brought up a topic that was recently giving Krivax a bit of a headache, “I’ve heard that there have been some tensions in Capital City between your delegation and the nobles?”

Yeah, that…

Relations between the nerubians and the nobles had been steadily improving until it felt like things took a turn for the worse about a week ago. The strangest thing about it was that Krivax couldn’t pinpoint a single source or reason that was the cause of the tension. It felt like overnight nobles, who were previously either supportive or ambivalent to their presence, now looked at them with suspicion or spread rumors of them having malign intentions.

It had gotten so bad that their deal with Alterac was being delayed because Count Dalton’s son had suddenly gone to his father and declared his opposition to the deal.

Azjol-Nerub’s leadership believed that the shift was a result of one of the human kingdoms spreading rumors, but Krivax knew that there was likely a different explanation.

It hadn’t taken very long before Hadix somehow reached the conclusion that the Void was increasing its presence in Capital City and had run off to investigate. The Vizier was not happy when he discovered that someone was using the Void to turn people against Azjol-Nerub.

Unfortunately, even if Deathwing was using his Void magic to sow distrust toward nerubians in the minds of the aristocracy, there wasn’t much he could do about it given couldn’t remember the name of Deathwing's human form.

Krivax was keeping his many eyes peeled for a suspicious human noble that was running around and causing problems, but he hadn’t had any luck yet.

Still… doesn’t he have better things to do? It’s not like a few rumors and a couple of distrustful nobles are going to tear apart the Alliance. What is his plan?

It made him feel worried to know that Deathwing was probably sneaking around the city, and a part of him worried that the changes he had made would end up being for the worse.

The only thing that Krivax could do was hope that this was a temporary problem. Deathwing would need to leave eventually to assist the Horde and it would likely become difficult for him to stay in Capital City in the long term. If everything had gone to plan, then Krasus and Alexstrasza were likely rallying the other Aspects and their Flights to confront Deathwing. He wouldn’t be able to stay here once the city was secretly crawling with dragons.

He’s probably just here to gather information or something, and the spiteful bastard decided to take a potshot at us while he’s here, Krivax thought hopefully. It was the only thing that made sense to him given the information he had available to him.

“There have been some tensions, yes, but I don’t believe it’s anything to worry about,” Krivax said with more confidence than he felt.

The Archmage hummed doubtfully but didn't comment any further on the matter. After that, there was not much left for them to discuss and they both said their farewells before ending their meeting. Krivax was sure that he would be speaking to the Archmage again soon given that he was the one handling most of the day-to-day diplomacy for the delegation. And now that the war was escalating and Azjol-Nerub had begun supplying the Alliance with arachnathids and other war beasts, there was a lot for the delegation to do.

Krivax put away the scrying crystal and turned his attention back to the numerous diplomatic letters that he needed to sort through. As he began his work, Krivax couldn’t help but wish that he could do more than he currently was. Unfortunately, there was no easy way for him to drastically increase his strength in a short amount, and his metaknowledge grew less useful every day as Azeroth’s history shifted further from what he remembered.

Sure, there was still a lot that he could do and more information that he could share, but Krivax couldn’t think of much he could do in the immediate future. For now, he would just have to wait to see where the chips landed after he sent his letter to Krasus. The first signs of change would be obvious once it came time for the Horde and the Alliance to have their fateful, first naval battle. Krivax didn’t know specifically when it would happen, but all signs pointed to it happening soon.

Eventually, he was certain that he would see an opportunity for him to be more proactive.

In the meantime, I’ll just continue studying my magic while doing my best to become a good diplomat. If I manage to do a good enough job, the leadership might trust me enough so that I’m not being babysat by Hadix or Anub’rekhan.

Azjol-Nerub wasn’t exactly overflowing with capable diplomats, so there was a chance Krivax could accumulate a decent amount of political power in his current position. As he was musing on his current situation and plans for the future, Krivax suddenly paused as his attention was grabbed by the contents of a particular letter, one that he had received from Stormwind.

Hmm… this holds promise.

Situated next to a bay in the Wetlands north of Khaz Modan was a large Horde encampment filled with orcs and ogres eager for battle. Ships could be seen being docked in the bay, primarily captained by goblins, while several others were currently under construction.

Inside a large tent in the center of this encampment, Orgrim Doomhammer growled in anger as he listened to the goblin share his latest reports of the Horde’s naval might, and how it compared to the Alliance.

Not only did the Horde not have much experience with constructing ships, sailing, and fighting at sea, but they were newcomers to this world, who simply had not had enough time to construct a naval fleet. As a result, Orgrim had been forced to use the wealth they had plundered from Stormwind to purchase ship-building services, maps, information, and mercenaries from the tiny green creatures that called themselves goblins.

“Listen, Mr. Warchief, things really aren’t looking all that good for you right now,” said the annoying little creature, a goblin by the name of Gitzik Smugbit, a representative of the Steamwheedle Cartel. “Things were looking better when you were promisin’ dragons that could burn up the human ships, but without that, your ships are going to get sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Sure, you’ll be able to get past the Alliance at first, on account of there being so many of you, but that’s not going to fix your long-term problems, understand? As it is, you’re going to need to put out a lot of gold to hire captains willing to send themselves and their ships into an obvious suicide job, big guy.”

Although he had instructed some of his men to learn how to construct ships and sail, Orgrim knew something like that would take years to accomplish. Therefore most of their fleet currently came from Steamwheedle mercenary captains and their ships.

Orgrim held back the urge to smash the little creature’s head with his hammer as it told him things he didn’t want to hear. The Horde had enough enemies, and from what he could tell, the Steamwheedle Cartel was not a group he wished to casually antagonize.

“Is your Cartel truly incapable of providing the ships we need to overcome the humans?” Orgrim asked impatiently. “We still have more than enough gold from our conquering of Stormwind, and there will be plenty more after we destroy the rest of the human kingdoms.”

“Look, buddy. I love gold as much as any self-respecting goblin, but I also love living to enjoy that gold more,” said Gitzik, his tone irreverent as he explained the situation to Orgrim. “Trade Prince Steemwheelde is willing to provide you guys with anything you need to win this war, but nothing we give is going to let you win against a navy as powerful as the one you’re up against. It was a different story before, but it’s looking like you’re out of luck, Mr. Warchief.”

Orgrim let out a stream of curses the second that the goblin left.

“Damn that fool, Zuluhed! I should have never trusted that he would be able to keep his worthless promises!”

When Zuluhed the Whacked had come to him with tales that he had received visions of a powerful artifact that could be turned against the humans and requested permission to go find it, Orgrim had allowed him to do so. Zuluhed was a Chieftain and Orgrim had believed that the man had the best interests of the Horde in mind.

Also, there was a part of him that hoped that Zuluhed’s visions were a sign that the elements were forgiving his people for turning away from them in favor of Gul’dan’s evil magic. Ever since their old world, Draenor, had been ruined by the warlocks, none of their shamans had received a single vision.

Those hopes grew after Zuluhed returned with an artifact of such strength that raw unfettered power practically emanated from it in waves. Zuluhed promised to use the artifact, which he called the Demon Soul, to enslave the flying firebreathing lizards of this world to use against the humans, and Orgrim had centered all of his plans around this promise.

However, instead of dragons, the only thing coming from Grim Batol were hideous mutated dwarves that had suddenly risen from beneath the fortress! The only reason they hadn’t needlessly lost orc lives was because that freakish ogre Cho’gall managed to control the creatures like he controlled the Twilight’s Hammer clan.

Now, promises had been left unfulfilled and Orgrim was left looking like a fool as the Horde had no way to defeat the human navy.

Orgrim stewed in his anger for several minutes before he was interrupted by a grunt entering his tent and giving an orcish salute, tapping his fist twice against his chest.

“Warchief, Cho’gall of the Twilight’s Hammer clan has requested an audience!”

Think of the monster, and he will come…

Orgrim didn’t like Cho’gall; the ogre was as insane as the clan that he led and several times as dangerous. Although the members of the Twilight’s Hammer were pitiful creatures twisted by dark and dangerous magic that Orgrim did not understand, very few of them could be considered an actual threat.

Cho’gall on the other hand was a powerful two-headed ogre, a creature of both great physical and magical strength that was significantly more intelligent than his single-headed kin.

But Orgrim couldn’t exactly afford to ignore him. The Horde needed the strength of the Twilight’s Hammer, especially now that the ogre had increased the number of monsters under his command.

“Let him in.”

The grunt quickly nodded before retreating in the direction that he came. A few moments later, the massive form of Cho’gall was making its way into the tent. Like the rest of his kin, the ogre wore little other than a loincloth and a little armor over his stomach.

“Speak, Cho’gall,” Orgrim said impatiently. He didn’t want to waste any more time speaking to the ogre than necessary.

“Warchief, I have heard that the Horde is having difficulty finding a way to overcome the humans’ ships,” said Cho’gall, his more intelligent head speaking while his other, single-eyed head hummed and made strange noises. “I have come to offer you my services.”

“I see you’re following in your master’s footsteps, ogre,” Orgrim said derisively. “Just like Gul’dan, you come to me with promises of using your foul magics to solve all of my problems.”

Before the more intelligent head could respond, the stupid one decided to speak first, “Gul’dan is not my master! No, no! My master is the Old Ones! Dark Ones! Whispers in the nights.”

Hmph. Pathetic fool.

“Are you dissatisfied with the Death Knights provided by Gul’dan, Warchief? Do you have a reason to doubt my promises?”

Orgrim almost wished that he could say yes, so he could have an excuse to slaughter Gul’dan, Cho’gall, and the last few remaining members of the Shadow Council. He would never forget the role they played in ruining his people, nor would he forgive.

But for now, he needed them. Orgrim swallowed his anger before responding to the ogre, “Go on then, Cho’gall. Tell me what new monstrosities you wish to give me.”

“My plan is quite simple, Warchief. You were correct to believe that we need dragons to defeat the human ships. Given that Zuluhed has failed to capture live ones that we can use, I propose we simply raise their corpses into undeath as we do for our Death Knights.”

Orgrim paused as he considered the ogre’s words. Undead dragons would certainly solve most of his problems, but the problems with that were obvious.

“Where do you expect me to find dragon corpses, you fool?! If finding them were so easy, then I would have already thought of this myself!” shouted Orgrim, angry that the ogre was wasting his time.

“There is one dragon corpse waiting where Zuluhed left it, but I understand your concerns. Fortunately, my gods know where to find these corpses, Warchief. Allow me to prove it to you,” said Cho’gall, his expression twisting into an insane smile before he reached into the bag strapped to his side and pulled out a strange book. Orgrim took a moment to study the book before his expression turned into one of anger and revulsion.

“This is a book that I created myself, Warchief. I call it the Twilight Canticle,” said Cho’gall, both of his heads showing a sick amount of pride as he displayed a book made of flesh.

“And where did you get the flesh to make that foul book, ogre?” asked Orgrim, his voice filled with disgust.

“From the Pale. They were more than eager to donate their flesh for the cause,” Cho’gall said calmly as if his life was not currently in danger.

Orgrim paused and took a closer look at the so-called ‘Twilight Canticle,’ realizing that the skin was a paler color than that of a typical orc. It matched what he would expect from a member of the Twilight’s Hammer Clan, who were typically paler than a normal orc, leading to most members of the Horde to refer to them as the Pale.

“Why are you showing me this? I have no interest in your hobbies or those of your insane followers.”

“The Twilight Canticle is the culmination of my efforts to attune myself to the gods of this world, and through it, they share with me their wisdom,” Cho’gall explained patiently. The ogre turned the book to its last page. “It is through this that reveals to me the way forward, and shows me the location of dead dragons.”

As Orgrim examined the last page of the disgusting book, a crude but still usable map, he felt a distinct suspicion that someone or something was using his Horde for its own ends. He had already started to grow slightly suspicious after hearing about Zuluhed’s visions, although part of him wished to believe their source was pure, but now he was nearly certain that he was being manipulated.

This was the second time that one of his people had come to him with a way to overcome the humans with knowledge gifted to them from an unverifiable source. He would be a fool not to see what was happening; it was so obvious that Orgrim wondered why the source of this information even bothered hiding.

It was times like this that made him seriously consider finishing his purge of the dishonor and darkness that infested Horde. He was beginning to believe that his half-measures were more trouble than they were worth and he should solely rely on the strength of the Horde itself and nothing else to see them to victory… but he still needed their strength. For now.

The second they took Capital City though… he would certainly revisit the thought.

“How many dragons can we reanimate?” asked Orgrim with a sense of resignation. Despite how suspicious this all was, he knew that he had few options. “The Death Knights are reanimated using the souls of dead warlocks. How many of those do we have left?”

“None, Warchief, we have used them all to create what Death Knights we already have,” said Cho’gall, his voice losing some of its insanity now that he was talking about logistics instead of his vile book. “Any dragons that we reanimate will lack consciousness, and their movements will be sloppy and slow in comparison to their living counterparts. They will need to be actively guided if they are to be of any use.”

Orgrim grunted thoughtfully as he considered what he had heard. Even with such limitations, these undead dragons would still be a force to be reckoned with and would be able to remain out of reach for most of the human forces.

“It would take the entire focus and most of the power of a single Death Knight to raise and maintain control of one undead dragon, therefore we are limited only by their own number,” Cho’gall continued to explain. “Of course, this also means that they will not be able to use their abilities to raise undead to fight alongside your warriors.”

Orgrim didn’t miss the fact that this would mean the undead dragons would be under the control of the Death Knights themselves. Although they claimed to be loyal to the Horde above all else, Orgrim could never forget that they were the creations of Gul’dan and former warlocks of the Shadow Council, those he personally killed even. He would have to take measures to defend the Horde should they turn against him.

“How many of these dragons can we have ready by the time we need to set sail?” Orgrim asked seriously. His Horde could not afford to wait long before they began running out of food and supplies. Not to mention that if they waited too long the humans would be prepared for their arrival and make any invasion a much riskier endeavor.

“Controlling such powerful undead beasts is well beyond what the Death Knights have had to do so far. It will require training to learn how to do so effectively,” said Cho’gall. “The most skilled, such as Teron Gorefiend, will likely be able to learn quickly. The rest will learn over the course of the invasion… we can likely have two or three prepared in the time you have given.”

Two or three… that much would have likely been enough if the dragons were alive, but if they were as slow and sloppy as Cho’gall claimed, then there was a high risk they would be torn apart by cannon fire.

Just as Orgrim was about to ask if there was anything that could be done to speed up the Death Knight’s training, the ogre interrupted him.

“Of course, I understand that two or three dragons may not be enough. However, my masters offer other gifts as well,” said Cho’gall, turning to a different page in his book.

As Orgrim read through the page’s contents, a small part of him couldn’t help but be glad that these dark forces were currently working in his favor… for now at least. If the contents of this book were accurate, then the Alliance had no idea about the dangers hiding in their midst.

Chapter Text

“It is a pleasure to have you here, Lady Windrunner,” Lothar greeted the elf in front of him with a smile and a polite handshake.

“Call me Alleria. Lady Windrunner is my mother,” the dubbed Alleria said with a smile. “Thank you for having me and those who Quel’thalas was helpful enough to let aid you.”

Lothar didn’t miss the grimace on the face of the otherwise beautiful elf and couldn’t deny feeling the same way.

It was not a secret that despite the impassioned calls of aid made by King Menethil and himself requesting that the high elves honor their ancient debt to the Arathi bloodline, that Quel’thalas was still reluctant at best to send any aid to assist the Alliance of Lordaeron against the Horde. They were so sure of their own safety that they saw no point in sending anyone to fight, and the fact that Lothar got Alleria and her followers at all was nothing short of a miracle of the Light itself… and not much of one in the end.

“Is there truly no chance that Quel’thalas will send more aid?” Turalyon, who was nearby at the command table with them, asked.

“I’ll be honest… the only reason why we are here at all is because King Sunstrider wishes to wipe away a debt to the Arathi bloodline through your Supreme Commander for as little of a cost as possible. The idea of owing a human anything is a stain on his and most elves' pride,” Alleria said with a sneer and pain in her eyes. Lothar could tell that she likely had personal reasons for feeling so strongly on the matter. “Not all of us feel the same way, however, so I volunteered myself and gathered those that agreed with me that the Horde is a threat we shouldn’t let spiral out of control. If I hadn’t, you would have received even less than what I came here with.”

Fewer than a few hundred elf rangers and a handful of destroyers? Lothar didn’t want to imagine less than that.

He could only sigh and nod. “We will make do, and thank you again for coming in our time of need.”

“I promise we will make up for what we lack in numbers through our superior skill,” Alleria promised him.

“Let us pray it is enough, for the Horde certainly has the numbers that such skill will be needed,” Lothar said before turning to Turalyon. “Go with Farstrider Alleria to help integrate her forces among the defenses.”

“Yes, Supreme Commander,” his lieutenant was quick to follow his order, guiding Alleria out from the command tent and quickly striking up a conversation.

He hoped they got along well, this conflict needed as little internal infighting as possible after all.

It was a problem that he faced every day as the Alliance was still struggling with building up defenses and gathering their combined forces here in Hillsbrad Foothills.

“How are the preparations Uther?” Lothar returned to speak with his other lieutenant at the command table after receiving several reports from a courier.

“Slow,” was Uther’s disappointed but unsurprised reply.

The man had been working ceaselessly alongside him and Turalyon to make their preparations go as swiftly as possible, but there was a limit to how quickly such matters could go.

“Damnation,” Lothar sighed as he placed both his hands on the table and glared at the map before him.

“Lordaeron’s military is moving the fastest, but much of their forces are focused on fortifying the roads to Capital City as best they are able. The other kingdoms are mostly doing the same, and are therefore slow to send most of their soldiers here to prepare for the Horde’s arrival. They believe that your prediction that the Horde will strike at Lordaeron’s capital first to be… ‘overconfident’.”

“Lordaeron is the largest and most powerful human kingdom here in the north,” Lothar repeated out loud for what felt like the hundredth time. “The orcs always seek out the largest threat and strike at it with all their might. That is why I’m sure they will come this way.”

“The Alliance is new and many parties still don’t fully trust each other, there was always going to be resistance,” Uther pointed out.

“I suppose I hoped that their sense of self-preservation would overpower their pride and paranoia,” Lothar grumbled.

“It’s also possible that they are simply that confident in Lord Proudmoore’s abilities,” Uther reminded him.

“The Horde’s fleet was last measured to be several hundred ships at least. There is no telling how many there will be once they actually set sail,” Lothar reminded him of the same intelligence report they have all read. “Even if Admiral Proudmoore sinks half the fleet that still means there will be near uncountable amounts of enemy forces reaching our shore that we must prepare for.”

“And if he does not, then we will meet them the moment they set foot on our lands, the Light is on our side,” Uther said with confidence and glowed a bit as well at the declaration.

Ever since he and the others, the newly formed Paladins of the Knights of the Silver Hand, had completed their training with the Archbishop, each one of them had been filled with a sense of certainty that made Lothar envious. To be so certain of something and work hard to make it a reality.

But Lothar had once been confident in his ability to defend Stormwind… yet his confidence had proven to be unwarranted and he had failed to protect those he was charged to defend.

Still, the last thing soldiers needed to hear was their leader feeling doubt.

“Of course, but the Light won’t do everything for us,” Lothar countered.

“Ha! That it won’t,” Uther agreed with a smile.

“Did I miss a joke?” spoke up a familiar voice as it entered the command tent.

Lothar quickly turned and smiled to see his friend, Khadgar, recently returned from his trip to Dalaran via his ability to teleport. A most convenient magical ability.

The mage looked more like Lothar’s age than the young man he truly was. His premature aging was a result of their battle with Medivh, the mage’s insane former master and the man responsible for opening the Dark Portal. Thankfully, he acted much more like his genuine age than the age he appeared. He certainly dressed no differently with his purple robes and staff, which made sense since he was a member of the Kirin Tor and the Alliance’s direct connection to Dalaran at this time.

“Yes, unless you’ve brought good news,” Lothar answered.

“In that case I suppose I must miss out on the fun,” Khadgar answered, sounding quite smug.

“Truly? What further aid could Dalaran give that they are not already providing?” Lothar asked curiously.

Dalaran, next to Lordaeron, was the most active in supporting the Alliance but had a very small standing army compared to the larger kingdom’s and could not send many bodies. The fact that most of those bodies did much to make up for it, but few were truly combat capable and their leaders had to stay behind to guard Dalaran itself.

“Apparently they completed a trade deal with Azjol-Nerub,” Khadgar began to explain. “One that will help offset our numerical disadvantage against the Horde to a certain degree.”

Lothar did not know much about the nerubians of Azjol-Nerub personally, the only thing he had to compare them with were the peaceful giant spiders of the Brightwood back home, his attention totally upon what could be done to combat the Horde alone. Like the elves, the nerubians made it clear they had no desire to take part in the conflict against the Horde.

Unlike them, Lothar could at least understand the logistic nightmare it would be to even try to transport their armies from Northrend to here even if they did.

“How so?” Uther asked curiously.

“While the nerubians as a whole are still not joining us against the Horde they have agreed to become our war suppliers,” Khadgar explained.

“We need bodies, not weapons,” Lothar explained in turn, feeling slightly disappointed. The Alliance did not lack for steel.

“Which is exactly what they are providing!” Khadgar explained. “For you see, the nerubians make use of a number of… ‘war beasts’ is the best term I suppose. They breed and make use of a number of strong and vicious creatures, all controllable via arcane means not unlike how a mage controls an elemental or a golem. However, they can make their creatures much quicker and cheaper than either of those options. I have a list of them here,” Khadgar then handed Lothar a piece of parchment that he soon lay on the table.

As he and Uther read it over they both couldn’t help but raise their eyebrows a bit. This was both impressive and… horrifying at the same time.

“Well… if nothing else we can use these beasts to help preserve the lives of our soldiers and ideally cause great damage against the Horde itself,” Uther pointed out. “These giant scorpion-like creatures of theirs alone could be of great use on the battlefield and striking from unexpected angles.”

“Indeed,” Lothar admitted.

“There is also another bit of potentially good news,” Khadgar spoke up once more. “But I will leave that to the guest that I picked up and brought along from Dalaran. You may enter.”

At those words, the command tent opened up again, and Lothar and Uther watched as one of the gigantic nerubian Spiderlords bent down and carefully walked through.

Lothar had not forgotten how tall these nerubians were, especially these Spiderlords who were utterly massive and had a terrifying appearance.

“Greetings, Supreme Commander Lothar and Sir Uther,” the nerubian spoke respectfully.

“Honored to see you again, Anub'rekhan,” Uther answered back with familiarity in his voice.

Lothar vaguely recalled Turalyon and Uther, along with the other paladins, speaking of the Spiderlord that had joined them in their training. From what he had last heard, he was still doing so in an effort to steadily increase his understanding of the Light.

“As am I, but I am here on business first and foremost. I am here on behalf of Azjol-Nerub-”

“-In partnership with Dalaran and the Kirin Tor,” Khadgar spoke up.

“-to offer the services of a small number of elite nerubian warriors to aid you against the Horde,” Anub'rekhan finished. “So long, of course, you allow them to complete their primary mission during the course of the war.”

“Primary mission?” Lothar asked with some suspicion.

“The High King is very interested and concerned about the Horde’s Death Knights, and intends to offer aid so that Azjol-Nerub and Dalaran might capture and study as many of them as possible,” Anub'rekhan explained.

Lothar nodded, understanding the reasoning of wanting to learn more about those abominations and how to counter them. His best bet so far would be to send Uther and the other paladins against them, but they were few to their still few but greater foes.

“We intend to capture and transport them to the Violet Hold in Dalaran so that we might learn more about them and their magic,” Anub’rekhan explained. “It goes without saying that the fewer the Horde have on the battlefield the fewer soldiers you will lose.”

On that, Lothar could only agree.

“If I am to allow this, it must be with the understanding that while they may carry out their mission when possible they are to follow my and mine’s orders, follow the chain of command, and not do anything that endangers the Alliance’s war effort in the process,” Lothar made clear.

“Naturally,” Anub'rekhan quickly acquiesced. “They understand that by taking part in this mission that they are going to war, that you are to be their leader until such time they are recalled, and that they are to follow you as they would follow a Spiderlord into battle. Azjol-Nerub wishes to make it clear that our objectives align and that we are able to cooperate. They will make fine strike teams against vulnerable enemy locations.”

Lothar would be the judge of that, but he could not afford to say no to more support no matter where it came from or its objectives, especially when by all accounts it truly did align with them.

“Very well,” Lothar agreed. “I will need to meet these troops before anything else.”

“As you say,” Anub'rekhan nodded. “I am also here to assist in the transfer of war beasts to your control. If there is any other business that directly requires nerubian contact, please inform me.”

“I shall. Thank you for your aid,” Lothar said sincerely.

“You are welcome, human… and let us hope that more of it is not required,” the Spiderlord said as he turned and left, leaving the three men alone to discuss among themselves.

“Can we trust them?” Lothar asked Uther and Khadgar honestly.

“They are more straightforward than the elves at least,” Uther noted. “I’ve even befriended Anub'rekhan and another warrior of theirs, and both seem to be stand-up men. Anub’rekhan alone has the drive to learn as much of the Light as possible that could challenge some bishops, and the Archbishop himself considers him a friend.”

“Dalaran trusts their capabilities, tested it even, so I have no reason to distrust them,” Khadgar shrugs. “They certainly have their own agenda, but nothing that is against the interests of the Alliance if nothing else.”

“That will have to do, then,” Lothar admitted as he turned back to the command table. “There is still much to do still after all. Are Gilneas and Alterac still dragging their feet?”

“Do you have to ask?” Uther asked with a raised brow.

Lothar just sighed. “Let us hope even after all these steps back we are still ahead by the time the Horde arrives.”

Because by then there would be no second chances.

Chapter Text

“Are you certain this is a good idea, Krivax?”

“I don’t see the problem, Masruk. We were able to verify that the letter genuinely came from Stormwind’s leaders. The magic contained in the letter’s emblem was impossible to fake.”

“That does not mean that this is not a trap. This all seems incredibly suspicious.”

“Weren’t you the one who was complaining that Capital City suddenly became too boring after the soldiers went off to war and that you had nobody to spar with? I thought that you’d be glad for the chance to fight off potential assassins.”

“Hmm… your argument is compelling.”

Krivax snorted in amusement and turned his attention back to the nondescript building that the two of them were approaching. He could feel that the building had several protective wards that would alert the occupants when someone was approaching, but the wards felt as if they had been put up fairly recently. It gave Krivax a sense that this location had been prepared just for this meeting and had not been actively used for a significant period of time.

It took quite a bit of effort for Krivax and Masruk to discreetly arrive at the meeting location specified in the letter that he had received from Stormwind, but he eventually managed to do so.

After receiving a letter that was requesting that he meet privately with a few of Stormwinds representatives to discuss an important matter that affected both them and Azjol-Nerub, Krivax had been extremely curious about what they wanted to talk about. Of course, he didn’t hesitate to present the letter to Hadix, but the Vizier was too busy with his own affairs to really pay it much mind. He simply instructed Krivax to bring along someone for protection and reminded him to use his magical emergency device if he needed to call for help.

Unfortunately, trying to secretly make your way to a clandestine meeting as a giant spider person was not a simple matter, but it was nothing that sufficient amounts of magic couldn’t solve. It helped a bit that the designated meeting location was in a poorer part of the city. Most of the residents went out of their way not to concern themselves with what other people were doing, which meant that the magic hiding their presence was significantly easier to maintain.

“What now?” asked Masruk, bringing Krivax’s attention back to the matter at hand.

“I suppose we just… knock on the door,” Krivax said hesitantly. It wasn’t like the letter had included any secret passcodes for them to use once they reached their destination.

Krivax walked through the ward and moved to do just that, only to be interrupted when the door opened up slightly before he could knock, allowing a wary half-elf man to peek through and glance between him and Masruk.

“Good morning,” said Krivax, keeping his tone friendly. “I believe that we are expected?”

Given how distinctive the two of them were, Krivax didn’t feel any need to verify their identities. The man only hesitated for a moment before opening the door fully and gesturing them both inside. Krivax moved to go inside, but Masruk insisted on entering first, staring suspiciously at the half-elf the entire time and nodding to Krivax after he saw nothing out of place.

After Krivax ducked down through the doorway and skittered inside, the half-elf closed and locked the door before turning to face them.

“Good morning, Vizier Krivax. My name is Devan Everdawn,” said the half-elf as he began to walk off deeper into the building; Krivax moved to follow him after only a moment. “I apologize for the rush, but we have a limited amount of time before our absence is noted by certain parties.”

Krivax and Masruk followed the man without comment as they were led to a room that looked as if it was the office of some noble. There were only two people in the room, one who Krivax found unfamiliar and one who he recognized in an instant. The former was an old woman with a severe expression who was wearing several large gaudy rings on her fingers, and the latter was the crown prince of Stormwind himself, Varian Wrynn.

The fifteen-year-old boy was obviously doing his best to appear serious and regal while sitting behind a desk and was admittedly doing a better job than Krivax would have expected, likely as a result of his training and upbringing. The only glimpses that Krivax had previously had of the kid were when he was looking miserable, but Varian did a good job of cleaning himself up.

“Welcome, Vizier Krivax. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” said Varian as they entered the room. Devan Everdawn moved to stand behind his prince while Krivax made their way to the cushions that had been prepared for him and Masruk stood to the side. Krivax was glad for the consideration, it always made him feel awkward to loom over people that were so much smaller than him. “As you likely well know, I am Varian Wrynn, crown prince of Stormwind. With me are Pathonia Shaw and Devan Everdawn, two members of Stormwind’s intelligence service, SI:7.”

Krivax glanced at the old woman in surprise once he heard her name. The only Shaw that he was familiar with was Matthias Shaw, who had been the leader of SI:7 and spymaster of Stormwind for most of the canon timeline.

Is this woman his grandmother?

Devan Everdawn was someone who was completely unfamiliar to him, so Krivax assumed him to just be some kind of nameless spy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Wrynn,” said Krivax, bowing slightly. “I confess, I’m very curious as to why you’ve called for this meeting. Especially when the only participants are two intelligence agents and you seem to be without a guard.”

“Just because you haven’t seen a guard, does not mean that one doesn’t exist,” said Pathonia Shaw, her lips curling up into a smirk. “I promise you, nerubian, our crown prince is more protected than he seems.”

Krivax hummed in consideration before glancing at Masruk, who nodded in affirmation. The people of this world were capable of a supernatural degree of stealth if they trained for it or used enchanted items, and Masruk had always been a tad more observant of his surroundings than Krivax.

“She speaks the truth. I noticed a few of their guards as we were passing through the hallways,” said Masruk.

“Hmph. You have good eyes, lad. Although it's probably cheating when you have eight of them.”

“To answer your question, Vizier, I asked you here to discuss a matter that affects both Stormwind and Azjol-Nerub,” said Prince Wrynn, continuing the conversation as if Pathonia and Masruk hadn’t spoken. “Specifically, I wish to make you aware of a threat to both of our kingdoms.”

“And what threat is that, Your Highness?” asked Krivax. He had a suspicion about what Prince Wrynn was referring to, but he wanted to hear it from him first.

“I’m referring to the forces responsible for manipulating the nobles of Lordaeron into not sending aid to my kingdom in its hour of greatest need,” said Prince Wrynn, a thread of anger and hatred slipping into his tone. “The same force which I have reason to believe is attempting to turn public opinion against Azjol-Nerub.”

Krivax was suddenly very glad that the humans had no way to understand nerubian facial expressions; even if he’d already had suspicions, the prince’s words still surprised him.

How did they manage to catch on to Deathwing? I don’t remember anything like that happening in the canon lore.

“That’s a strong claim, do you have any evidence for this?” Krivax asked in an attempt to acquire more information. He needed to figure out how much they knew.

The prince nodded before turning to Pathonia Shaw.

“After Stormwind's destruction, we immediately grew suspicious as to why none of the other kingdoms had sent us aid, despite our repeated pleas for assistance,” Shaw explained before gesturing to the half-elf standing beside her. “Devan Everdawn had skills uniquely suited for finding the truth of this matter, so I assigned him to the investigation. At first, our results were… inconclusive.”

“How so?” asked Krivax, suddenly very curious.

“I began my investigation by approaching the Lordaeronian nobles with the closest ties to Stormwind, such as House Blackmoore, Reneigh, and Whitehall,” said Everdawn. “Without exception, they all claimed that they had simply considered Stormwind’s dire situation to be unfounded rumors and that they did not consider looking any further into it.”

“Did you consider that they might have been manipulated by magic?” asked Krivax, voicing the obvious conclusion that they would have reached.

“We did,” said Everdawn. “It looked like such an obvious case of magical manipulation, that we were actually surprised by the arrogance of it all. It seemed as if they were not even interested in hiding their activities. However, when we decided to look into it further, it became clear that their arrogance was well-warranted.”

At that, the half-elf’s expression twisted into one of tired frustration before he continued, “No matter what tests we ran, we were utterly incapable of detecting any traces of magic having influenced these individuals. No matter how hard we tried, we failed to gather any evidence of foul play.”

Krivax was a bit surprised at that, but not completely. Deathwing was probably one of the most potent sources of Void magic on Azeroth aside from the Old Gods themselves and the creatures that had been created by them directly, the N’raqi. Krivax didn’t know how skilled Deathwing was at actually using the Old Gods’ power, but he’d had plenty of time to train given how old he was.

After joining the Order of Kal’tut and studying the spellbooks that they had given him, Krivax had learned how insidious the Void could be. The fact that Deathwing could manipulate the minds of Lordaeron’s nobles without leaving any traces was surprising, but not overly so.

“Then what has changed?” asked Krivax. “I don’t think you would have called for this meeting if you didn’t have any evidence to present.”.

“After our attempts to detect the magic affecting the nobles failed, I turned my efforts to more conventional methods,” said Everdawn. “I began looking for signs of bribery, coercion, blackmail, and other more mundane means of persuasion. I figured that even if there was some kind of magic involved, it probably wasn’t possible for them to mind control every noble in Lordaeron or there wouldn’t be a need for subtlety in the first place.”

Krivax hummed noncommittally. Deathwing was extremely powerful, but after some consideration, it did seem unlikely that the old dragon could just mind-control every noble in the Eastern Kingdoms who happened to get in his way, right?

If he could, then why wouldn’t he just use the Void to mind-whammy the governments of the Alliance and have the Horde roll over them without any difficulty? The most obvious explanation was that his power either had a limit or he was unwilling to risk being discovered by the other Dragonflights. Given that there was still no sign of him doing so despite the letter that Krivax had sent to Krasus, it seemed more likely to be the former than the latter.

Krivax couldn’t really know for certain; Warcraft lore was filled with contradictions so it was difficult to guess how those contradictions would fix themselves when translated into the real world.

“I did manage to find some evidence of bribes that were coming from somewhere in Alterac, but not enough for me to narrow down the potential suspects, the trail had simply gotten too cold… until recently,” Everdawn continued, his mouth turning up into a satisfied smile. “After they began making efforts to turn public opinion against Azjol-Nerub, I was able to gather enough evidence to narrow down our potential suspects to the House of Ravendholdt and the House of Prestor.”

Prestor… where have I heard that before?

Krivax searched his mind in an attempt to remember where he had heard that name before; he had a strong feeling that it was incredibly important.

“Interestingly, House Prestor is a relatively minor family with holdings in one the most mountainous and obscure regions of Lordaeron, yet they spend gold well beyond their means,” said Pathonia Shaw. “Not only that, but despite Lord Prestor being such a minor noble he was able to marry his daughter, Katrana Prestor, into one of Stormwind’s most powerful noble families.”

Katrana Prestor! That’s the human name of Deathwing’s daughter, Onyxia!

While the name of Deathwing's human form was relatively obscure Warcraft lore, most fans of the franchise would recognize the name of Onyxia’s human form. This meant that there was a good chance that Deathwing's human form was a noble from the Prestor family, just like his daughter.

“What is the name of the current head of House Prestor?” asked Krivax.

“Lord Daval Prestor,” Prince Varian immediately answered. “Why do you ask?”

“I wanted to know if I recognized the name,” Krivax answered truthfully before changing the subject. “Have you brought this evidence? I would like to see what you have managed to uncover. If these noble houses are indeed working against Azjol-Nerub, then that is something that I would like to know.”

“Vizier Hadix and Anub’rekhan would both want to know about this as well,” Masruk nodded in agreement.

“Of course,” said Pathonia Shaw, retrieving a stack of neatly organized documents from the desk and presenting them to him.

What followed was a long explanation given by Everdawn of what they had uncovered with Shaw offering her own contributions from time to time.

Apparently, there were numerous instances in which House Prestor had either bribed members of Lordaeron’s nobility or instances in which Daval Prestor had been seen interacting with nobles who changed their minds on some important matter shortly after meeting with him. One particular example of evidence was testimony from one of Lord Whitehall’s maids, claiming that the noble suddenly became skeptical of Stormwind’s pleas immediately after meeting with Prestor. A more recent example was a similar incident that occurred between Prestor and Count Dalton.

Aside from that, there were also signs that House Prestor held a long-term business relationship with House Ravenholdt, who had long been rumored to hold connections to organized crime in Alterac. SI:7 had even managed to identify Lord Prestor’s closest servant—a goblin of all things, that went by the name of Kryll—to be the one responsible for managing Prestor’s shady affairs.

Krivax looked through the gathered information and couldn’t help but feel conflicted. He really didn’t want to antagonize Deathwing—he’d much prefer leaving him to be dealt with by someone more qualified—but this was too good of an opportunity to ignore. After sending his anonymous letter to Krasus, he had already upended the sequence of events that would have led to Deathwing's defeat at the hands of the other Aspects.

That being the case, it would probably be better for Krivax to do anything he could to ensure that the Aspects found Deathwing and had the opportunity to defeat him. That wasn’t something that he could do by staying uninvolved.

“We are aware that Azjol-Nerub is in negotiations with Alterac,” said Prince Wrynn. “We hope that you reconsider that in light of this information, as well as consider the offer that we made to you.”

“That is not something that I can decide on my own,” Krivax responded before changing the subject. “How do you all expect Azjol-Nerub to help handle this matter? Also, why have you chosen not to present this to Lordaeron’s House of Lords?”

“Because we do not know how far this corruption has spread,” said Prince Wrynn, slightly frustrated. “And given that many of the parties that have been compromised are members of the House of Lords, we would need much more convincing evidence than what we currently have. As for what Azjol-Nerub has to offer, I was hoping you could answer that, Vizier Krivax. You are far more familiar with your kingdom’s capabilities than I am.”

After a moment of consideration, Krivax decided that this was probably too important for him to decide on his own, “Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Prince Wrynn. Although I can’t commit to anything right now, I intend to share this information with my superior as quickly as possible. I think that it’s likely that you will receive a favorable response.”

That was probably an understatement.

Krivax immediately thought of Hadix and the Order of Kal’tut. They would not be pleased once they learned that a human noble from Alterac was using the Void to brainwash people against Azjol-Nerub.

I suppose things in Capital City aren’t going to get any quieter anytime soon…

Daval Prestor, also known as Deathwing, listened to the mad goblin who he had taken on as a servant with annoyed exasperation from the comfort of House Prestors ancestral home. All goblins were mad, but this one was more so than most. The only reason that he put up with the creature was that Kryll was undeniably competent in his role.

“Then Ravenholdt and his cutthroats have agreed to our terms? My plans for Kul’Tiras cannot continue without the aid of their assassins and saboteurs, Kryll,” said Lord Prestor, interrupting the goblin.

“Of course, O prince of duplicity! Everything is going exactly according to your plans, great one!”

“Good,” said Lord Prestor, nodding in satisfaction.

After his plans to capture Alexstrasza had failed, he had chosen to return to Capital City for a few different reasons, one of which was that there was simply little for him to do with the Horde that he couldn’t do from afar. Being in Capital City allowed him the opportunity to search the minds of the human nobles for sensitive information that could be used against the Alliance.

Not only that, but being exposed meant that he could afford to take actions that were much less… subtle than he had been taking previously. One of those was leveraging the nascent Void cult that was beginning to form among the Kul’Tiran Tidesages to his advantage.

Unfortunately, there were simply not many of them and they hadn’t managed to grow as much as Lord Prestor would have wished. Maybe in a decade or two, they would have been able to completely subvert the organization, but that was something that would never happen now.

As it was, Lord Prestor had been forced to hire mortal criminals to aid the cultists with the sabotage of the Alliance’s fleet. It was fortunate that his daughter was so fond of playing her games of deception, and that she had spent so much time gathering resources and building up the Prestor name. It made so much of what he had to do much easier.

It was a shame that the rest of his children were not quite as useful as Onyxia.

He had also gone to Capital City with hopes that he could discover how his plans had failed, but there had been little luck in that direction. Ravenholdt had been able to discover that a goblin from the Steamwheedle Cartel had been hired to deliver a letter to Krasus, also known as Korialstrasz, but not much else. Despite the fact that Lord Prestor had personally peeled the goblin’s mind apart in search of information, he had not managed to find anything of significance.

Oh, he was fairly certain that the nerubians were somehow involved; the whispers coming from his masters had informed him of such, but there was little that Lord Prestor could do about it in the short term. No, his revenge against the traitorous creatures would have to be a long-term endeavor. For now, he’d simply have to content himself with ruining any plans that Azjol-Nerub might have of reaching an agreement with Alterac while also turning opinion against them.

Although it didn’t truly matter very much.

After the Alliance and the Aspects were defeated, then there would be little that could stop him from collapsing the nerubians’ underground kingdom on top of their heads.

After all, the earth was his domain and nobody else's.

“I see the shadow of a smile on your face. Is someone about to die a horrible, grisly, bloody death, O venomous one?”

“Spare me your nonsense, Kryll,” Lord Prestor replied as he turned his attention back to the goblin. “If you have nothing left of importance to report, then remove yourself from my sight.”

Prestor tuned out the goblin’s nonsensical words as it left his presence. There was much that he needed to do, but there was not much time before the Horde would be launching their invasion of Hillsbrad Foothills, and Prestor wished to witness the fruits of his labor. With a flex of will, Prestor cast a scrying spell that allowed him to look through the Void and watch the events that would soon unfold.

He was curious to see the performance of the undead dragons that he had gifted to the Horde. As the Aspect of the earth, it was a trivial matter to find and retrieve long dead dragon corpses and deliver them to the Horde, but Prestor was not quite certain how well they would do when compared to a living dragon. Still, along with his other efforts, he was confident that the Horde would be able to make landfall and launch their invasion in earnest.

With a wicked smile on his face, Daval Prestor sat back in his comfortable seat and prepared to watch the always amusing sight of mortals slaughtering each other.

Chapter Text

Admiral Daelin Proudmoore listened carefully from the quarterdeck of the Tidemother’s Vengeance as reports came in via the scrying crystal about the Horde’s movements.

Daelin didn’t have much experience working with elves, but he supposed there was no reason to doubt their reports when both they and the scouts from the Second Fleet were telling him the same thing.

The Horde was preparing to launch their invasion.

From what Daelin could tell, it seemed as if they intended to disembark from the Wetlands north of Khaz Modan and land their troops in the Hillsbrad Foothills, as Lothar predicted was their most likely landing point. To do this, they would need to successfully travel by sea across Baradin Bay, but Daelin had no intention of allowing them to travel uncontested..

These creatures were from a different world, so Daelin couldn’t blame them for believing that their plans might succeed. However, he would be more than glad to teach them why Kul’tiras was the most powerful naval force in the world, bar none.

“What kind of composition can we expect from the Horde fleet, Fleet Admiral Seabane?” asked Daelin, consulting the leader of the Second Fleet. “Have there been any significant changes?”

“No, Grand Admiral. The Horde’s navy is still composed primarily of stolen human warships, goblin mercenaries, and… many crude oar-powered ships, ” said the grim voice of Admiral Seabane through the scrying crystal.

Only the orcs could use something as ridiculous as oar-powered ships, thought Daelin.

Despite his derisive thoughts, he understood that the orcs had many troops that they needed to transport and not enough ships. Coupled with the freakish strength of the orcs, it was feasible that they might be able to row themselves across Baradin Bay.

It galled Daelin to see well-made human ships under the control of monsters. Before its destruction, Stormwind had once possessed one of the most powerful navies in the Eastern Kingdoms. The majority of their ships had been used to transport the kingdom’s refugees to Lordaeron, but many of them had unfortunately been captured by the Horde.

It was unfortunate that Lothar had not had enough time to set them all ablaze, but Daelin could not blame the man; it was right for him to place the wellbeing of Stormwind’s citizens above other matters.

However, it was not these ships that caused the Fleet Admiral to sound so grim. According to everything they knew about the Horde, they were amateur sailors, a deficiency that well-made ships could not compensate for. No, what truly concerned Daelin and Fleet Admiral Seabane was the presence of the goblin mercenaries. Not because of the threat that they posed, although the goblins were no strangers to naval combat, but because of what their presence signified.

Goblins were troublesome little creatures that often demonstrated a shocking lack of self-preservation if enough gold was involved. However, goblins were not fools, and there was still ultimately a limit to how much danger they would put themselves in. Given the vast superiority of the Alliance forces compared to theirs, Daelin had not expected that the goblins would be willing to stay and fight.

That they were willing was worrying.

If the goblins hadn’t already run and taken their gold with them, then that meant they believed they had a chance of survival.

“Do we have any idea what the bastards are planning?” Daelin growled out.

“Perhaps the Steamwheedle Cartel has finally managed to arm their zeppelins?” offered his son, Captain Derek Proudemoore, Commander of the Third Fleet, although his tone made it clear that he doubted that conclusion.

“No, that isn’t the case, Captain,” Daelin said confidently. “Every spy in the Eastern Kingdoms has been keeping a close eye on the weapons coming out of their factories. Besides, one of the other cartels would have informed us.”

The only thing that you could trust a goblin for was their willingness to betray their own for a large enough bag of gold.

“Then I have no idea what they could have planned, Grand Admiral,” said Derek.

“Neither do I. Attempting to divine the intentions of a goblin is an exercise in futility. Who knows what manner of ridiculous nonsense might come from their minds?” said Seabane.

Daelin was reminded of a particularly humiliating incident in which Kul’Tiras lost a Stormbringer-Class Ship of the Line that was undertaking anti-piracy operations near Blackwater Cove or Booty Bay as the goblins preferred to call it.

To this day, Kul’Tiras still did not have a proper understanding of what happened, other than that the ship was destroyed by a massive gunpowder-based explosion that came from below. The greatest minds at the Proudmoore Naval Academy had come up with all kinds of implausible explanations, such as floating bombs being left in the water or ships that could swim under the sea. Ultimately, the only ones who knew what happened with any certainty were the Steamwheedle Cartel.

With those thoughts in mind, Daelin turned his attention to the two people who stood by his side.

“Are you certain your fellow Tidesages are prepared to handle any potential attacks from below, Tidesage Stormsong?” asked Daelin, directing his question to a man dressed in the usual brown and purple robes that were traditional to his order.

The Order of the Tidesages was the most powerful religious organization in Kul’Tiras, far exceeding the popularity of the Church of the Holy Light. The Tidesages held a variety of responsibilities, such as blessing the ships of the Kul’Tiran navy, using their magic to provide favorable winds while out at sea, guiding their ships through dangerous storms, and much more. Not only that, but the Order of the Tidesages had even gone so far as to provide their own Shrine Templar to aid the Kul’Tiran military.

Naturally, this meant that the Tidesage leader, Waylon Stormsong, was as venerated in Kul’Tiras as Archbishop Faol was in the rest of the human kingdoms.

“We are, Grand Admiral,” said Tidesage Stormsong, his expression blank and his voice toneless. “Any members of the Horde which seek to attack our ships from below shall be swiftly sent to greet the Tidemother.”

Although Daelin worshiped the Tidemother like any other proper Kul’Tiran, he could admit that the Tidesages were much less… amiable than the priests of the Church, especially in recent times.

Daelin briefly turned his attention to the lad standing by Stormsong, who was apparently the man’s apprentice.

According to the report he had received from the Tirassian Secret Service, the lad was an orphan who had been taken to Stormsong Monastery by the Tidesages after he started hearing the whispers of the Tidemother more clearly than most. Many of his fellow street children had described the lad as friendly and outgoing, but Daelin would have never guessed that to be the case looking into his eyes now.

“I’m glad to hear that, Tidesage,” said Daelin, forcing his attention back to the scrying crystal. “Fleet Admiral, where do you believe it best that we engage the Horde forces? Naturally, It will depend greatly upon the course they take, but we have a certain amount of freedom to choose where we attack them.”

“In my opinion, our best bet would be to engage them near the island of Zul’dare,” said Seabane.

“Not Crestfall?” Daelin asked curiously. He agreed, but he wanted to hear the Fleet Admiral’s reasoning.

“No, Grand Admiral. It's very likely that the goblins will be expecting an attack from Crestfall and will make efforts to avoid it.”

“I agree. The goblins will know that Crestfall is much more heavily populated and fortified than Zul’dare,” said Daelin. “The coastal formations near Zul’dare are suitable for an ambush, as long as we utilize the magic of the Tidesages.”

“Given the temperature of the water in Baradin Bay, it should take us little effort to summon a fogbank large enough to drastically reduce the Horde’s visibility, Grand Admiral,” said Tidesage Stormsong, immediately understanding his implication. “We should also be able to hold it as long as it is necessary.

“Good,” said Daelin, his tone one of satisfaction. The fleets would have little trouble navigating something as simple as a fog as long as they had the assistance of Tidesages. “If that is the case, then I propose that the First Fleet should lay in wait near Zul’dare, while the Second and Third Fleets are held back in preparation. Once the Horde’s ships finish passing by Zul’dare, the First Fleet shall engage them from the rear while the other two fleets move to quickly attack from the front.”

There was a lull in the conversation as the Fleet Admiral contemplated his plan before responding.

“Are you certain that is wise, Grand Admiral? This plan would place your fleet in a vulnerable position if the Horde navy proves more formidable than anticipated,” Seabane said evenly.

“I agree, this plan sounds unnecessarily risky,” said Derek, a note of worry in his voice. “Especially when we don’t have a full understanding of the enemy's capabilities.”

Daelin took a moment to consider the Fleet Admiral’s words. It was true that he would be in the most vulnerable position; while the Second and Third Fleet would have the option to retreat back north in the direction of Hillsbrad Foothills, it would be much more difficult for the First Fleet to do the same. However, Daelin had much more confidence in the capabilities of the First Fleet given that they were composed entirely of ships from the Kul’Tiran navy.

The Second and Third Fleets were composed of a combination of ships from the other human kingdoms, as well as a few elvish destroyers.

Daelin had no doubt that the First Fleet would be able to wreak havoc in the back lines of the Horde’s navy while also relying on their extreme advantage in maneuverability to escape once they figured out whatever had the goblins feeling so confident. And if whatever surprise the Horde had waiting for them proved to be insufficient, then attacking the Horde navy from both the front and the rear meant there was a chance they strike a decisive blow against the Horde.

Unfortunately, there was little chance that they would be able to actually end the war in a single battle due to the sheer amount of transport ships that the Horde possessed. They simply wouldn’t be able to destroy them all before the Horde managed to make landfall. However, if there was a chance that Daelin could destroy a large portion of their forces, then he had every intention of doing so, even if it meant taking on a little risk.

Daelin quickly explained his thinking to his subordinates and eventually received a reluctant agreement.

“It is a risk,” Daelin said after finishing his explanation. “But it is one worth taking.”

“Understood, Grand Admiral. The Second Fleet is prepared to set sail to the ambush location at any time.”

“Good,” said Daelin, nodding in satisfaction. “If we are to succeed in this plan, then we must set sail for Zul’dare immediately. The Tidesages need enough time to finish casting the ritual to summon the fogbank long before the Horde arrives, lest they grow suspicious due to its sudden appearance. Is the Third Fleet prepared as well, Captain Proudemoore?”

There had been more than a little difficulty in integrating the various naval forces of the Eastern Kingdoms into a single fighting force in the form of the Third Fleet. Most of the other kingdoms were wise enough to mimic the naval structure of Kul’Tiras to the best of their ability, but it was still exceedingly difficult to create a singular command structure and account for the capabilities of so many different varieties of ships. That was especially the case after Quel’thalas sent their elvish destroyers.

However, Daelin trusted his son to get the job done. Derek was one of the most capable Captains in the entire Kul’Tiran navy and had a good head for handling logistics.

“Yes, Grand Admiral, the elves have been more cooperative than expected and their integration has gone well. The Third Fleet is ready to sail on your order,” Derek said proudly.

Good lad.

“Very well,” Daelin said with a sense of finality. “Then the First Fleet shall set sail for Zul’dare immediately and lay in wait for the Horde’s ships to pass. Scrying shall be prohibited until the moment that the battle begins; we do not know fully what their foul magic is capable of and I’ll not risk the chance that they might listen in on our conversations. Do the two of you understand your orders?”

“Aye, Grand Admiral,” said Fleet Admiral Seabane.

“Aye, Grand Admiral,” said Captain Proudemoore.

“Good,” said Daelin. “Then I call for this meeting to come to an end. May the Tidemother be with you both.”

“May the Tidemother be with you, Grand Admiral,” repeated Derek and Seabane.

Daelin turned his attention back to the deck of his ship and called out for his Quartermaster as the scrying crystal lost its glowing luster, “Petty Officer! Have the men raise the anchor. We set sail for Zul’dare.”

“Aye, Captain!” The Petty Officer saluted and immediately moved to carry out his orders. Soon enough, Daelin heard the sounds of running feet and sliding ropes as the men rushed to their assigned stations.

He couldn’t help but smile. Daelin had hand-picked each and every sailor on his ship, and there was not a finer crew to sail the seas of Azeroth.

Daelin turned his attention back to the sea beyond his ship and studied the waves and the sky. The seas were calm, and there were no signs of a storm approaching any time soon; Daelin was grateful for it.

The Tidemother had gifted him with such a beautiful day, so he would do everything he could to show his gratitude by delivering the Horde to her embrace.

…

Nestled in the coastal formations of Zul’dare, the crew of the Tidemother’s Vengeance waited patiently for their prey to appear. Her sails were furled so as to prevent her from moving and her anchor was dropped. The Tidesages onboard had long since completed their ritual and a thick, unnatural fogbank spread for several miles from the island.

High atop the ship, in the crow’s nest, the lookout diligently scanned the horizons with his enchanted brass spyglass.

The crew was visibly tense and worked with an eerie silence. It was approaching the time at which the Horde fleet was expected to arrive, and every man knew that their survival depended on the Horde not discovering them until it was too late.

The crew continued to work in relative quiet until, eventually, a sharp whistle coming from the crow’s nest broke the silence. Immediately, every sailor on the deck turned their attention to the lookout, only to see him pointing in a particular direction off the starboard bow. The ship’s Captain lifted his personal spyglass up to his eyes and looked off to the horizon, searching for the presence of their enemy. After a tense moment, the Captain lowered his spyglass and barked a few short orders to his crew that sent them scrambling into positions.

It didn’t take long before every gunport on the Tidemother’s Vengeance’s starboard side had been lowered and teams of men were in position to unfurl the sails and raise the anchors the moment they heard their Captain’s orders. Several Tidesages focused their efforts on thickening the fog that shrouded their fleet and several others prepared to cast the rituals that would allow them to summon a gale of wind once they needed it.

Once everyone was in position, they waited patiently for their enemy to arrive and pass by their location.

The crew received their first view of the enemy as a massive Tidebringer-Class Man-of-War lumbered passed by them. Many of the crew bristled in indignation, fully aware that the ship was one that had once belonged to their people before being stolen by pirates and criminals. It was an insult they had every intention of paying back.

Following behind the enemy flagship was a long line of tightly grouped warships, sailing in a formation designed to protect the numerous troop transport ships that followed behind them. If any of the crew still held any doubt over the threat that their enemy posed to their homes, those would have been dashed at that moment. Many of the crew watched as thousands of ships passed, carrying a veritable flood of orcs that threatened to sweep over the Eastern Kingdoms.

Many of the sailors offered silent prayers to the Tidemother, and several even prayed to the Light. It was easy for them to lose track of time as the endless stream of ships passed them by, but eventually, they finally received orders from their Captain.

The last few ships in the passing fleet were goblin warships, likely positioned at the rear to protect the transports from a potential attack from the rear.

They would be the first to be destroyed.

As soon as the last ship passed by the hiding fleet, three things happened in quick succession.

First, the Captain of the Tidemother’s Vengeance gave an order that sent his crew scrambling to unfurl the sails and raise the anchor, prompting the other ships in the First Fleet to do the same. Next, a few of the Tidesages began to disperse the fogbank while the rest prepared to summon winds that would fill the sails of their Fleet.

And finally, the quiet was suddenly broken by the thunderous cacophony of an entire Fleet unloading their cannons into the backline of the Horde navy. In a single moment of overwhelming cannon fire, several of the Horde’s rear-positioned warships were splintered and destroyed, sinking immediately and littering the sea with corpses and flailing orcs.

As soon as the last cannon had fired, Daelin Proudemoore yelled out an order that was heard by every sailor on the deck, “Raise the sails! Full speed ahead!”

It only took a few moments before the Tidemother’s Vengeance was leaping forward across the water as the sails unfurled and caught the wind. Daelin knew that his gunnery crew was already reloading the cannons and preparing to sink as many ships as they could.

“Target the surviving warships! Do not allow them to get their bearings!”

The goblin warships made an admirable attempt to turn their guns to the First Fleet, but their efforts were not quick enough to save many of them. A second volley of cannon fire broke apart several of the remaining warships before they could even hope to return fire.

Daelin allowed himself a satisfied smile as the scent of expended gunpowder began to fill the air, happy to see his plans coming to fruition.

“Captain! Incoming fire!”

Daelin turned his attention to one of the largest remaining goblin warships, which was lining up its guns on his ship. A part of him wanted to scoff; it was likely that the Horde ship understood that they had little chance of victory, and the captain of the ship wished to aim its fire at their enemy’s flagship.

Unfortunately for them, the Tidemother’s Vengeance was the most powerful ship to ever sail the seas of Azeroth.

Still, even if the ship wasn’t under any great deal of threat, there was a chance that the ship could get a lucky shot and kill some of his crew.

“Take cover!”

Goblin munitions were perhaps the best in the world. The only ones who could even hope to compete with them were the gnomes, but they rarely created weapons.

The goblins had deceptively good aim, and the ship was rocked as several cannonballs smashed into its side. However, Daelin knew that there would be little damage done; the Tidemother’s Vengeance had been constructed with superior Kul’tiran timber, Stormwood from the forests of the edges of Drustvar, and was heavily blessed by the Tidesages.

Daelin focused his attention on steering the ship, confident that his men would soon destroy the rest of the enemy warships. His duty was to maintain a line of sight for the forty broadside cannons currently firing at the enemy.

“Grand Admiral, I have successfully managed to create a connection to the First and Second Fleets,” said Tidesage Stormsong from his position next to the scrying crystal.

“Very good, Tidesage,” said Daelin, not taking his eyes off of the enemy battleship as he brought his ship into a firing position. “Fleet Admiral Seabane, Captain Proudemoore, the First Fleet has engaged the Horde. Are you nearly in position?”

“The Second Fleet is nearly in position, Grand Admiral. You should be able to see us appearing over the horizon.”

Sure enough, Daelin could see the tell-tale sign of sails peaking over the horizon and approaching the Horde fleet. That explained why the goblin warships at the front had not yet made any attempt to turn around and engage them.

“The Third Fleet will arrive soon after, Grand Admiral. We’ve had to slow down a bit for the ships from Stromgarde.”

Daelin let out a snort of amusement. The only nation that had a worse navy than Stromgarde was the Alteraci, who didn’t have one in the first place.

Both the Second and Third Fleets had received orders to follow along the sides of the Horde navy and destroy as many ships as they could while keeping well out of boarding range. They were expecting the Horde to sail as quickly as they could to Hillsbrad Foothills so that they could land their troops.

While the Alliance Navy could defeat the Horde at sea, Supreme Commander Lothar would have a lot more difficulty achieving a victory on land if they did not destroy a sizable portion of the transport ships.

Despite the impression one might gain if one were to listen to one of the popular stories told by bards, naval battles were a long and grueling affair, even if one side held a decisive advantage. The Second and Third Fleets were soon in cannon range of the Horde warships and were quick to engage them.

The Horde was massively outgunned, but Daelin could tell even from where he was that the captain of the goblin Man-of-War was no novice.

Damned, thieving goblins…

After the first few volleys, the remaining goblin warships were prepared to fight back, and destroying them became much more difficult. It took several hours, but the First Fleet was eventually able to diminish the enemy warships enough that they could focus their cannon fire on the transport ships.

Each time one was destroyed, the men let out a cheer as hundreds or thousands of orcs were sent to their watery doom, their heavy armor weighing them down as they drowned, and Daelin couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He had made certain to prepare for this and had stocked his fleet with as much ammunition as it could handle. And now that he had free rein against an enemy that could hardly fight back, Daelin had every intention of continuing until he ran out of ammo.

And that was exactly what he did for a few more hours; if it were genuinely possible to do so, Daelin imagined he would have truly turned the Baradin Bay red with the blood of orcs.

This continued until he spotted his lookout frantically attempting to signal him over the noise.

Daelin immediately used his spyglass to look in the direction that his lookout was signaling, before spotting a sight that made him rapidly pale. At first, he had no idea what he was looking at when he spotted three flying undead creatures made entirely out of bone. However, once he spotted the eerie red glow emanating from the creatures as well as the Death Knights riding their backs, Daelin was finally able to understand.

Somehow, the Horde had managed to find dead dragons and raise them into their service, and they were flying straight toward the Alliance fleet!

Daelin forced himself to calm down as he quickly studied the creatures and considered his options. He could tell that each of the dragons was flying in the direction of one of the fleets, and it wouldn’t be long before they arrived. This was not at all a threat that they were prepared to face.

Daelin himself had not had much experience with dragons, but he had seen one fly when he was younger, and it was immediately obvious that these undead abominations were slower and likely less agile than their living counterparts. Still, it would be difficult to shoot down the creatures from such a low angle.

The majority of their cannons were broadside cannons and were obviously incapable of hitting a target at such a high elevation. The only ones that might be able to do so were the cannons that were on the deck.

“Captain, Fleet Admiral, there are three undead dragons approaching our fleets from the south,” said Daelin, sounding far calmer than he actually was.

His words were met with silence before Seabane responded with a skeptical tone, “I believe I misheard you, Grand Admiral. Please repeat.”

“There are Death Knights atop undead dragons approaching our fleets! Take up defensive formations immediately and move to regroup! We cannot afford to remain in our current positions with those dragons flying above us. Continue firing your broadside cannons at the Horde fleet and assign your best gunmen to the cannons on your deck!”

It was far too dangerous for their fleets to be spread out under these circumstances. They had already done great damage to the Horde, though not nearly as much as he wanted, now they needed to act more defensively.

There was another moment of silence during which the two men were presumably looking for the dragons through their spy glasses. After a while, both of them confirmed that they would be following his orders and Daelin turned his attention back to Tidesage Stormsong.

“Tidesage, do you believe your gales will be able to have any effect on these creatures’ ability to fly?” asked Daelin, desperate for a solution to the problem that was headed their way.

“I believe so, Grand Admiral. Despite the fact that the creatures’ wings are made purely from bone and dark magic, the winds that I can summon at my full strength are extremely potent,” said Stormsong, his full attention on the dragons.

“Good,” said Daelin, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Then do so, Tidesage.”

Stormsong nodded before tightening the grip that he held on his staff, “As you wish, Grand Adm—”

Daelin jumped back in shock as the Tidesage suddenly began choking and clawing at his throat. Just as Daelin was about to call for a healer, a strange black liquid began to leak from the Tidesage’s orifices, and he soon started to vomit the same substance.

Poison?! But who could have possib—

He was barely quick enough to dodge the knife that Stormsong’s apprentice had aimed for his heart. Daelin did not spend any time wondering more about the situation; he merely unsheathed Tidebringer from its sheath and removed the traitor's head from his body in one single motion.

Daelin was about to turn back to check on Stormsong, but he was forced to stop and stare as the traitor's body suddenly began changing in front of his eyes.

His skin turned from a healthy tan to a sick and eerie purple color, his fingers turned long and clawed, and the bottom portion of his decapitated head suddenly began growing tentacles.

By the gods! What is this?!

Although Daelin was the furthest thing from a mage, he could tell that he was starting to feel more and more strange the longer he looked at the corpse. The feeling reminded him vaguely of his few encounters with Shadow magic.

Was the boy some kind of Shadow cultist?! Have the Tidesages been compromised?! No, at least not completely, otherwise, they wouldn’t have had to poison Stormsong. Are the traitors working with the Horde?

Daelin staggered as his attention was suddenly captured by one of the ships in the Second Fleet suddenly exploding in a burst of fire, followed suddenly by several other ships experiencing various explosions across all three fleets.

Explosions?! How?! Wait… the other Tidesages, there must be more traitors among the ships! Did they sabotage the gunpowder?! Wait, they must have also gone after Derek!

Daelin let out a short gasp of realization as he ignored his panicking crew and ran back to the scrying crystal.

“Derek! Be careful of the Tidesages! One of them tried to stick a dagger in my heart and turned into some kind of abomination after I killed him!”

“They tried something similar here, but I’m alright. I have a feeling many of our Captains were not so fortunate. It will take some time before we can reorganize and fix our formations,” said Derek, sounding a tad disturbed but otherwise unharmed.

A similar message came through from Seabane and Daelin felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. That tension quickly returned as Daelin took an accounting of their fleet's current situation; only now could he understand the totality of the Horde’s plan.

The goal of the traitors was to assassinate their command structure in an attempt to disorientate their fleet. Several of the Horde transport ships had already turned around and were sailing toward them, likely with the intention to board them. Death Knights riding undead dragons were quickly approaching their locations, and would be working to both do as much damage as possible while also distracting them from the incoming transport ships.

Once he understood, Daelin swiftly began barking orders that his crew moved to obey without question. Deck-mounted cannons were aimed up at the incoming dragons while ships turned their broadsides to the transport ships. Nobody waited to receive an order to begin firing, and the sea was once again filled with the sounds of cannon fire.

The broadsides proved accurate, but Daelin could tell that it wouldn’t be enough. Many of the ships in the First Fleet were still sorting out their situations after the sabotage of the traitors, and the Horde ships simply numbered too many.

The deck-mounted cannons proved more promising, with several near hits. One of the dragons took a hit to its front leg, but the undead creature failed to outwardly react. Daelin could tell that the one headed to his fleet was the most agile of the bunch, which meant the abomination managed to reach them before they could shoot it out of the sky.

Daelin watched in horror as the creature opened its maw and released a stream of fire that lit one of his destroyers ablaze. It was too far for him to hear the screams of the crew, but Daelin felt as if he could hear them anyway. He wished that there was something that he could do, but he could only hope that one of his gunmen would hit their target on the creature's next approach.

Daelin had confidence that they would be able to hit the dragon eventually, but how many ships would he lose before then?

On the dragon’s second sweep, it targeted one of the battleships. Every deck-mounted cannon in the fleet was trying to hit the blasted creature, but his men had little practice in hitting aerial targets, and this one was much swifter than the other two.

The dragon flew down low again, and Daelin prepared himself to watch as another one of his ships was set ablaze. However, these worries proved unnecessary as a massive stream of water rose from the nearby ocean to meet the dragon’s fiery breath.

I’m glad to see not all of the Tidesages have betrayed us…

The Death Knight must have been surprised because the dragon failed to move as a cannonball struck its sides and shattered apart several of its ribs. Unfortunately, this was not enough to knock it out of the air as it simply kept on flying with a wound that would have likely downed a living dragon.

Daelin clenched his teeth as the dragon turned around for its third attack, this time headed straight for the Tidemother’s Vengeance. It must have realized now that the cannons posed an actual threat to it, and the Death Knight wished to destroy the Alliance flagship.

Come then, bastard!

As the dragon flew toward him, Daelin let out a quick prayer to the Tidemother. His crew was the best in the world, and the dragon would have little room to dodge while it was coming straight at them. Daelin could feel his heart pounding as the gunmen barely missed their target, and the dragon opened its maw to reveal a bright fiery glow.

When a cannonball coming from one of the other ships suddenly blew apart the creature’s jaw, Daelin had never felt such pure relief.

The Death Knight was obviously stunned and was unable to react quickly enough to prevent the dragon from crashing into the deck of Daelin’s ship. However, he recovered quickly and one of the dragon's massive claws slammed down onto one of the gunners, and the Death Knight didn’t hesitate to jump down from his mount and unsheathe his blade.

“Humans! I am the harbinger of your death! I am Teron Gorefi—”

Daelin didn’t wait for the abomination to finish talking as he drew his pistol from its holster and fired a shot aimed at the monster’s heart. If his pistol was a normal one, he doubted it would have been powerful enough to penetrate the obviously enchanted armor the being was wearing.

As it was, the bullet that was fired from the specially-made enchanted gnome pistol managed to penetrate, but the monster merely laughed as if a hole in its chest was a mere inconvenience.

One of the sailors was brave enough to charge the Death Knight, but he was quickly dispatched when the creature waved its blade and sent out a blast of dark magic that killed the man instantly, literally sucking the life out of him.

“As I was saying, I am Teron Gorefiend. First of the Death Knights. What is your name, human?” asked the abomination, staring directly at Daelin while its dragon continued to rampage across the deck.

Daelin gripped tightly unto Tidebringer as he began making his way down the quarterdeck, “I am Daelin Proudemoore, Grand Admiral of the Alliance and ruler of Kul’Tiras.”

“What grand titles! Your head will please the Warchief greatly,” Gorefiend laughed at his apparent good fortune.

“You’ll have to earn it, monster!” Daelin exclaimed as he readied his blade.

“Dear Admiral… that’s the idea!”

Chapter Text

The Order is already stretching its resources and influence to its limit, Hadix,” said the figure of Seer Ixit being displayed through the scrying crystal. “We have few enough resources and trusted personnel in the Eastern Kingdoms as it is. We can scarcely afford to send someone to go investigate the Horde at this time.”

“If our colleagues cannot afford to offer me support, then they should cease their incessant demands, Ixit,” Hadix said gruffly, more than a little annoyed.

The Order had been asking for some time that Hadix take on a mission to examine the Horde for the Void’s influence while refusing to understand that such an endeavor would take more time than he had available. This had been going on ever since some analyst had reviewed the reports that Stormwind had made on the Horde’s magic.

Unfortunately, there was only so much that Krivax could do to provide him an alibi during his absences, so such a mission was completely out of the question. Besides, given that Hadix had been detecting an increase in the amount of Void energies in Capital City recently, his time was better spent where he was.

“I understand your frustrations, Hadix, but you are one of the most powerful mages in the Order,” said Ixit, attempting to persuade Hadix. “We do not have any assets in the Eastern Kingdoms more well-suited to this task than you are.”

“Then that seems like something that we should change,” Hadix said adamantly. “I am well aware of my worth, but the Order is more than capable of assembling a team capable of accomplishing what you are asking. Why have we not done so?”

“The risks simply outweigh the benefits,” Ixit admitted, sounding reluctant. “The High King has grown increasingly suspicious as a result of some of the Order’s more overt manipulations recently. I’ve even begun to notice that Elder Nadox is treating me with suspicion.”

Hadix found himself slightly surprised by his colleague's words. Much like his student, Krivax, Elder Nadox was one of the few Viziers he had met that was unfortunate enough to be burdened with an overabundance of empathy and sentimentality. If Nadox was truly beginning to suspect Ixit, someone who Nadox had taken on as an apprentice the moment he had joined the Circle of Viziers, then matters must truly be growing dire.

Hadix had already reached the conclusion that it would be nigh impossible for the Order to hide itself or the existence of the Void given the current circumstances, but it seems things were progressing faster than even he had expected.

Damned fools…

Hadix was, contrary to what his own student might think, among the portion of the Order who believed that their extreme secrecy hurt their efforts more than aided them. Ignorance was rarely a strong defense against threats after all, but he was in the minority.

“I see. I suppose then that it must be difficult to transfer more of our members to the Eastern Kingdoms without providing the High King with a good explanation,” said Hadix as he considered the situation. Most Viziers of his skill and power were individuals with important positions in Azjol-Nerub and couldn’t be transferred easily without a good excuse. “Still, I am unable to spare the time to investigate the Horde, for all of the reasons that I have already explained.”

Ixit sighed before nodding his understanding, “Very well, Hadix. While you are here, I may as well update you on our investigation into Dalaran and the Kirin Tor.”

“Please do,” said Hadix, suddenly feeling far more interested in the conversation.

Hadix spent the next thirty minutes speaking with Ixit about the Order’s various interests in the Eastern Kingdoms. Given that many of the Order’s leaders were influential individuals with busy schedules, it was rare that they would have the chance to have a large meeting. Therefore, Ixit was the one who was generally responsible for keeping Hadix informed on current events.

After Hadix has been obligated to leave Dalaran and return to Capital City, thus ending his investigation into the Kirin Tor, the Order sent one of their best investigators to replace him. Hadix was confident that they would be able to uncover Dalaran’s secrets. After all, keeping and uncovering secrets was a skill that the Order of Kal’tut had been perfecting for millennia.

According to Ixit, their investigation made it fairly clear that the humans were aware of the Void to a certain degree, referring to it as ‘Shadow magic’. The investigation had not yet been completed, and would not be completed for quite some time, but there was no indication that Dalaran knew about the Old Gods.

Hadix wondered how it was possible for them to be aware of the Void, yet remain ignorant of the Old Gods.

Was that a sign that the influence of the Old Gods was lesser in the Eastern Kingdoms when compared to Northrend? Did that imply that the Eastern Kingdoms did not house a prison similar to Ulduar? If so, then what did that mean for the effectiveness of Ulduar if the evil entity that it imprisoned was still able to spread its influence to the nearby lands?

Too many questions. Too many implications. It was impossible for Hadix to reach a conclusion without gathering more information, yet with the stakes so high it was difficult to stop his mind from running away from him.

Hadix had known deep within his soul the threat that the Void posed to the world for nearly his entire life. From the moment that Elder Yel’rin had betrayed him and the Order had taken him in, Hadix had promised himself that he would dedicate his life to fighting against the influence of the Old Gods.

There was a time that Hadix had believed that the Order was winning that fight, but with every new discovery he was starting to believe that he had been woefully naive.

Hadix tiredly turned his attention back to Ixit; the Seer had stopped speaking and was looking at him expectantly.

Ah, I must have been lost in my thoughts.

Hadix cast a quick spell that would allow him to recall the auditory information of the past few minutes before responding to Ixit, “Kalimdor? No. I have not heard any mention of such a place. Why do you ask?”

“I thought not. Kalimdor has come up an unusual number of times during our investigation as some kind of mythical land west of the Eastern Kingdoms,” Ixit explained. “There is little evidence that it actually exists, merely many ancient human legends, but the Order is not willing to dismiss the possibility out of hand after we failed to know about the Eastern Kingdoms. If you hear anything about Kalimdor, make certain that you inform us.”

“Understood.”

Hadix wasn’t certain how he would react if there was yet another troublesome continent out there filled with unknown threats. The Eastern Kingdoms alone already made his life far busier than it had been in centuries, however, Hadix wasn’t too worried. After all, it was far more likely that Kalimdor was merely some manner of human legend.

How many unknown continents could possibly exist in one world?

“Aside from that, the only other subject of interest that we have uncovered are vague references to demons and something that the humans refer to as ‘Fel magic,’” said Ixit, stumbling slightly over the Common words. “One of our colleagues believes that the description of this Fel magic matches something from our historical records around the time of the Great Sunderings. If you hear anything about Fel magic, we would like to hear about that as well.”

Hadix nodded his affirmation. It had become common practice that the Order would keep him apprised of the topics that they were researching when it came to the Eastern Kingdoms. There was no telling when some throwaway comment made by some mage or noble would be of interest, so it was best that Hadix knew what to listen for.

Just as he was about to ask for more information, Hadix paused as his attention was drawn away as he noticed Krivax passing through his wards.

“I’m afraid we shall need to continue his conversation later. My apprentice is returning from his clandestine meeting with Stormwind’s leadership,” Hadix announced.

“Oh, Vizier Krivax? What do you think the humans wanted?”

“I have no idea, but if I know Krivax, then it’s likely something that is going to make my life more troublesome than it already is,” said Hadix, already resigning himself to whatever irritating matter Krivax was about to present to him.

Life was easier when his days were spent hunting down fools who had been corrupted by the Void and watching over other Viziers with too much ambition and not enough good sense.

Hadix put away the scrying crystal and turned to wait for his student to arrive. When Krivax walked through the door carrying documents with a pensive expression on his face, Hadix immediately knew that his predictions were about to become true.

"Vizier Hadix! Stormwind shared some important information during the meeting."

His expectations were quickly validated as Krivax explained what happened during his meeting with Stormwind’s representatives.

How is it that you always manage to find yourself in these kinds of situations?

Thankfully, this situation was not as drastic as the time his student upended nerubian society by discovering an unknown continent. Still, receiving confirmation that a human was using magic—almost certainly Void magic—to manipulate the minds of his fellow humans was not a small matter. Many of his peers in the Order were already reaching the conclusion that it would be extremely difficult to hide information about the Void, especially after they discovered that the Kirin Tor already knew more than they would prefer.

Discovering that the Void was being used in such a flagrant manner would not make anyone in the Order happy, to say the least. This would simply be yet another matter that should be investigated by an entire team of Viziers, but would end up being handled by Hadix alone.

"We were already aware that someone in Capital City was working against us," said Hadix as he looked through the documents that Krivax had passed to him. The humans had been surprisingly thorough in their investigation. "However, this is significantly more dire than we had expected."

Hadix knew more about the Void and its capabilities than most of the poor fools who attempted to wield it. While it was true that the Void was an insidious force that was well-suited to corrupting the thoughts of others, certain manipulations were easier than others. It was extremely difficult for an aspiring Void cultist to compel someone to do something that was explicitly against their nature; it was far easier to nudge the victim into doing something than outright control them.

There were many people who would have had an extreme interest in offering aid to Stormwind during the First War, either due to having close business ties or family members that were living there. The fact that someone had managed to manipulate so many people across all of the nations in the Eastern Kingdoms made it clear to Hadix that this was an extremely serious situation.

He sincerely doubted that a single individual was capable of such widespread manipulation. If so, then they would have to be the most powerful Void cultist that Hadix had ever seen in his life.

“Given what we know so far, it is likely that we are dealing with a powerful and well-established cult,” Hadix announced once he was finished looking through the evidence. “This ‘House Prestor’ has most likely been corrupted and compromised by the Void. House Ravendolt seems to merely be responsible for providing them the more mundane criminals and assassins.”

Krivax seemed surprised for a moment before he nodded and replied, “That makes sense, but how do you think we should handle this, Vizier Hadix? I don’t think it will be very easy to deal with this, especially without drawing attention.”

He’s not wrong…

If this was Azjol-Nerub, then Hadix would simply do some amount of investigation to discover who had been corrupted by the Void before killing them. However, it was unlikely that he would be able to get rid of an entire cult without drawing attention, especially given the Order’s lack of influence in the Eastern Kingdoms.

No, Hadix would need to handle this in a discreet manner, and he would only be able to count on himself for support… and also Krivax.

“We will start by evaluating the supposed victims of this cult for mental manipulations,” said Hadix after a moment of thought. “Even if these humans were incapable of detecting anything, that does not mean that I cannot. It is important that we actually verify what we are facing, even if all of the evidence points to one conclusion.”

“Do you intend to meet with Prince Wrynn? I was unable to offer them any commitments by myself, so they are very interested in speaking with you, Vizier Hadix.”

“I suppose that I must,” said Hadix, pushing aside his reluctance. He barely enjoyed speaking with most nerubians, let alone some human hatchling, but sacrifices must be made. “We will cooperate with them. They have done adequate work so far, and their assistance might be of use when it comes to gathering more evidence.”

It was a simple truth that humans understood other humans in a way that Hadix would always be unable to replicate, so some amount of cooperation was necessary. He was well aware that he did not possess that natural empathy that seemed to come to his student so easily.

“Vizier, I have a suggestion,” said Krivax.

Hadix turned his focus to his student. Krivax did not usually prevaricate unless he was about to say something that he believed Hadix would not want to hear.

“What is your suggestion?”

“I believe that we should make contact with the Kirin Tor and seek their help with this,” Krivax said hesitantly.

Hadix instantly understood what was going on in his student’s mind, “You are worried that I would oppose this course of action due to the need for secrecy. However, we have recently learned that the Kirin Tor is already aware of the Void. Seeking their cooperation would not be a great risk.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Krivax, sounding relieved. “Does that mean we’ll do it?”

Hadix considered the proposal for a moment before responding, “Explain why you believe this to be the best course of action, and explain to me why Stormwind has not already done so.” He could already see the benefits of cooperating with Dalaran, but he wanted to hear his student’s justification.

“Unlike us, the Kirin Tor has enough political influence in the Eastern Kingdoms that they do not need to be cautious when confronting the human nobility,” Krivax quickly explained. “Not only that, but it's always a good idea to foster trust when the opportunity comes. As for why Stormwind hasn’t been willing to bring this to the Kirin Tor, it might seem strange but they have very little influence with Dalaran, even when compared to us.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Hadix asked curiously. It made little sense to him that a relative newcomer such as Azjol-Nerub would have more influence with Dalaran than a long-established human kingdom like Stormwind.

Hadix knew that his student was much more interested in the surface races and their history than he was, so he assumed that Krivax would have an answer.

“To be more clear, Stormwind and Dalaran have never had a close relationship,” said Krivax, a hint of enthusiasm creeping into his tone as he began speaking on a subject that interested him. “Unlike the other kingdoms, Stormwind has always gone out of its way to train its own mages rather than sending them to Dalaran. They even dedicated a large portion of their capital city just for this task.”

Hadix nodded his understanding. It was easy enough to understand that Dalaran would not appreciate having the strange monopoly it held on magical training outside of Quel’thalas challenged.

“Relations between the two grew worse because of Medivh, who was closely associated with Stormwind.”

Medivh was a name that Hadix had grown more than a little familiar with during his time in the Eastern Kingdoms. Apparently, he was once a close friend of Stormwind’s former king before he betrayed everyone and opened the Dark Portal. Hadix wished he could have had the opportunity to meet the man.

It was absurd that a human who was barely a few decades old had grown powerful enough to open a portal to another world. Even if the entirety of Azjol-Nerub dedicated itself to replicating such a feat, Hadix doubted that it would be able to succeed.

So much about the Eastern Kingdoms made little sense, and Hadix wanted to know more.

“Are the humans of Stormwind incapable of putting aside their pride? I do not see why they should be so concerned with their poor relationship with Dalaran when the situation is so serious,” said Hadix.

“Prince Wrynn does not believe that anything would come of it given the evidence that they have available,” said Krivax, sounding disappointed. “The bad blood between them is significant, especially since Dalaran was one of the parties that failed to offer Stormwind aid, and they cannot use magical manipulation as an excuse in their case.”

“I see,” Hadix said thoughtfully. Human history was not the most interesting of topics, but it was undeniably useful in this instance. “I suppose that given those circumstances it would make sense that Azjol-Nerub might genuinely have more influence in Dalaran than Stormwind. They have been purchasing a large number of beasts from us, after all. Very well then. You may approach the Kirin Tor and inform them of the problem.”

Krivax was the one who had the most frequent contact with Dalaran, therefore it would be wise to have him be the one to present this situation to the Kirin Tor. Hadix had always known when it was appropriate to delegate work, and this was one such moment.

“Thank you, Vizier. I believe it would be best to do so in a few days from now,” said Krivax. “I’ve recently been informed by Archmage Runeweaver that the Council of Six has received word that Archmage Krasus intends to return to Dalaran soon.”

Hadix failed to see any problems with waiting for a few more days. It would be to their benefit if the entire Council of Six was present in Dalaran when Krivax informed them of the situation, while also giving him more time to gather information.

Hadix discussed the matter with his student for several more minutes before sending him away. He had many preparations that he needed to make if he wished to properly dismantle the cult that had been foolish enough to target his kingdom.

As Hadix had told Krivax, the first thing that he would be doing would be examining the supposed victims. And then after that, he would begin looking into the cultists themselves, starting with its most likely member, Lord Daval Prestor.

Korialstrasz took a moment to stretch out his wings as he entered the Chamber of the Aspects at Wyrmrest Temple. Normally non-Aspects like himself would never be permitted to enter the Chambers, but the other Aspects had not yet arrived and his beloved had given him permission since he would be required to explain the source of information that led to recent events.

It was from there that he and the other consorts held their meetings while Alexstrasza was gone, attempting to gather her siblings.

After the run-in with Deathwing and the confirmation of him having his claws on the Dragon Soul and assisting the Horde against the peoples of the Eastern Kingdoms his beloved and all her consorts were in agreement that something had to be done in their capacity as the guardians of life on Azeroth. The question of what was much more complicated.

First, his Queen stated that she must inform the other Aspects of Deathwing’s survival and thus she and most of her consorts flew north for Wyrmrest Temple. Alexstrasza made it clear that while she would do her best to get her siblings to spring into action there was truthfully little the Dragonflights could do directly so long as Deathwing’s latest pawns held the Dragon Soul without risking enslavement or worse.

They would likely have to wait for the right opportunity to strike, something that Korialstrasz was to help with by gathering as many of their dragonsworn agents as he possibly could, their mortal beings the only ones who could potentially be used to help take the Dragon Soul back and leave Deathwing open for the Aspects to strike against.

They had even directed the Red Dragonflight to aid the Alliance in their mortal forms in any way that they could, to hide from Deathwing’s eyes and less likely to be a direct target of the Dragon Soul should it be brought onto the battlefield. As a natural consequence of their long lives, many of their members were powerful and influential, so their aid would be no small boon to the Alliance, even in their less directly powerful forms.

There was still much to do, but Korialstrasz would soon have to return to his duties as one of Dalaran’s leaders. It was important that he was there to help make certain the Kirin Tor did what it could to fight against the Horde, especially now that they understood Deathwing was using the Horde to further his own goals.

It was a shame that they could not simply inform the Council of Six of the Dragon Soul and have them aid in securing it. Korialstrasz knew his colleagues well and understood that there was too much risk that one of them would seek to use it, likely to a much greater effect than the Horde.

Many dragons believed that if mortals had their hands on such power they would not easily part with it, seeking to use it to raise themselves up on their strength. When Korialstrasz thought of how Kel’thuzad would likely react to such an artifact, even if he didn’t believe the man capable of enslaving others against their will, he found it difficult to fault them for their assumptions.

Still, that did not mean that it would be impossible to leverage the mortals to their advantage. Wielding the Dragon Soul properly took some amount of training, so there was little danger as long as the mortals remained ignorant of the artifact's true nature.

Korialstrasz was interrupted from his thoughts as he sensed a sudden flare of magic which indicated that the Chamber’s portals were being used. Korialstrasz could feel his mood lifting as he saw his queen passing through the portal and making her way into the chambers.

“I’m glad to see you, my love,” Korialstrasz said warmly as she approached. “How was your mission? Did everything go well?”

“It was difficult, but my efforts have borne fruit,” said Alexstrasza, sounding tired yet satisfied. “My fellow Aspects have agreed to join forces in order to confront Deathwing. Malygos was hostile to my approach at first, but he agreed once he understood the situation.”

Korialstrasz was not surprised. There was likely not a single soul on Azeroth who hated Deathwing more than Lord Malygos.

Any further conversation was put on hold as the portal began to flare up again and the other Aspects started arriving one after another.

The first was Ysera, Aspect of the Green Dragonflight and Mother of Dreams. Krasus had not seen her in millennia, yet the feeling that he felt while in her presence was not one that he could ever forget. Korialstrasz felt as if he was standing in a peaceful and verdant forest, slowly drifting off to sleep as a sense of tranquility permeated the Chambers.

In another situation, Korialstrasz would be glad to allow himself a peaceful nap, but the business in front of them was obviously too important for such a thing.

Turning his attention away from Ysera, Korialstrasz glanced at the Aspect that followed behind her.

Nozdormu, Aspect of the Bronze Dragonflight and commonly referred to as the Timeless One was someone who Krasus had not seen since the War of the Ancients. Korialstrasz could understand why the man was rarely seen outside of the Caverns of Time. Responsible for protecting Azeroth’s timestream, it was not uncommon to rarely see any bronze dragons out and about, let alone their lord. Out of all the Aspects, he was likely the one who was the most consistently busy.

The last to enter the Chamber should have looked regal, powerful, the picture of wisdom and intelligence among all the Aspects… but Lord Malygos looked anything but. Malygos, Aspect of the Blue Dragonflight, looked as if he had not seen fit to take care of himself in millennia, which he likely hadn’t. The dragon that many had once called the ‘Guardian of Magic’ walked into the Chamber of Aspects with eyes that held an equal measure of pain, apathy, and hatred.

Ever since Deathwing had used the Dragon Soul to annihilate most of the Blue Dragonflight, along with his mates, Lord Malygos had not been the same…

What few remaining members of the Blue Flight beyond their lord had struggled for millennia to fulfill their duties while he wallowed in his grief within the Nexus. Korialstrasz found it difficult to blame him; he could not imagine how he’d be if his own beloved was taken away.

But the fact he was here was a hopeful sign, no matter his current state.

Korialstrasz cut his thoughts off as the Aspects gathered around the center of the Chamber, taking their places in specific spots that had been left open, and it wasn’t long after that his queen saw fit to begin the meeting.

“Welcome, and thank you all for heeding my call,” said Alexstrasza, her voice echoing throughout the chamber. “We have gathered here today because of a grave threat that has come back to plague Azeroth. Deathwing has returned, and he is once more in possession of the Dragon Soul. I do not believe it is necessary to explain to you all the consequences of this.”

“No, you do not, sister,” said Ysera, sounding more grave than she had sounded since the War of the Ancients. “As long as Neltharion is in possession of the Dragon Soul, not only are all of our Flights in danger, but the entirety of Azeroth is at risk as well.”

“Thankfully, the spell that we placed on the Dragon Soul millennia ago prevents him from wielding the artifact directly,” Nozdormu pointed out. “Unfortunately, he will have little trouble having his mortal agents use it in his stead. If the Horde, these servants of the Burning Legion, succeed in conquering the Eastern Kingdoms, then he will likely point them to the rest of the world as well.”

“His madness is truly great if he believes the Legion will stomach him using their agents for his dark masters once they return,” Malygos muttered hatefully.

“How do we know that the Horde are servants of the Burning Legion?” asked Ysera.

“Oh, we know because of the mysterious letter that was delivered to Korialstrasz,” said Nozdormu, chuckling with amusement.

“Do you know where this ‘mysterious letter’ came from?” Malygos asked with annoyance, directing his question to Nozdormu rather than Korialstrasz. “You have that irritating look in your eyes that you get whenever you know something that the rest of us don’t.”

Korialstrasz glanced at Lord Nozdormu’s eyes. He didn’t look any different than normal as far as he could tell.

“You know me well enough to understand that I’ve already said as much as I wish on the subject,” Nozdormu said dismissively. “When I wish to say more, then I will do so.”

Malygos let out a deep growl but did not pursue the matter. Korialstrasz had the feeling that this was a conversation that they had had many times before.

“I believe that we should focus our conversation on Deathwing and how we intend to confront him,” said Alexstrasza, putting the meeting back on track. “Our most important goal must be securing the Dragon Soul so that we are able to attack Deathwing without risking being controlled. The Red Dragonflight has already begun organizing our mortal agents for this endeavor, and I ask that you all offer your aid as well.”

“My Flight has very few mortal agents outside of Kalimdor, but you will have whatever support we can offer,” offered Ysera.

“There have been many temporal anomalies in recent times, and I’m afraid I cannot spare many to offer aid, but I myself will be available during this time,” Nozdormu said evenly.

“I… am uncertain as to the state of the dragonsworn among my Flight,” Malygos grudgingly admitted. “I will need to consult with them, but you will have their support regardless.”

“Thank you,” Alexstrasza said gratefully. Korialstrasz knew that the Aspects had not had much communication in recent times and that his beloved was glad for this opportunity to work with them closely again, regardless of the circumstances. “If we wish to succeed in securing the Dragon Soul, then there are many things that must be done. The first of which is locating it…”

Korialstrasz listened carefully as the conversation continued, offering his own opinions when it was appropriate to do so. He knew more about the current state of the mortal world than most other dragons, so his contributions were essential.

He could only hope that they would be enough…

“Of course, we must now consider what our fallen brother intends to do now that his original plan to capture our sister has failed,” Nozdormu pointed out. “He never did like it when his plans did not pan out exactly as he wished, after all. He was hiding his presence before so as not to alert us, but now that he knows we are aware of his return he will likely act more boldly and openly.”

“He, like his depravity, will not lack options,” Malygos stated.

As the Aspects all nodded and stared into the empty space in the Chamber, Korialstrasz could only dread that they would likely see the answer soon enough.

Chapter Text

As Anub’rekhan made his way through the small town of Hillsbrad—which had been converted into an Alliance stronghold—he felt a hint of wonder at how little attention the humans were paying him.

He was not sure whether they were an abnormally adaptable species, or if they simply had more important things to worry about than him. Although a quick glance at the exhausted soldiers going about their business throughout the camp made him feel as if the latter explanation was far more likely.

It had only been a few days since the Horde had made landfall in the Hillsbrad Foothills and begun swarming over it like starving skitterers. Battle had been constant ever since, with heavy casualties beginning to pile up on both sides, although the Alliance was almost certainly better off thanks to the many beasts that they had bought from Azjol-Nerub.

The Arachnathids proved to be capable of serving effectively as infantry, while also being able to deliver devastating ambushes. Flyers served as effective scouts that allowed the Alliance to have an extremely clear understanding of enemy movements. The Alliance was undoubtedly in a much better position than it would have been without Azjol-Nerub’s assistance.

However, It seemed like there was not a single moment where something was not happening in this war, and exhaustion was starting to settle in among the human leadership.

Not only that, but the Alliance navy had suffered incredible losses due to the Horde deploying undead dragons of all things. When Anub’rekhan had first heard about that, his estimation of the threat that the Horde posed increased significantly, although he had decided to reserve his judgment until he heard a full accounting of what had happened out at sea. Due to the extreme chaos that had been taking place over the past few days and the fact that the Alliance navy was unable to dock in the Hillsbrad Foothills, they had been mostly left in the dark.

However, that was finally about to change, which was why Anub’rekhan was currently making his way to the noble manor in which the human officers currently resided.

The war between the Alliance and the Horde was proving itself to be a horrible and gruesome affair that surpassed any of Anub’rekhan’s expectations… and he had never felt more alive.

Unlike many Spiderlords, who had been trained to hold important positions of leadership, Anub’rekhan had been trained primarily to be a weapon that could be turned against the enemies of his kingdom.

Yet despite this, Azjol-Nerub had been at peace for over ten thousand years, and Anub’rekhan had never been given the chance to fulfill his true purpose. He had of course been trained in a wide variety of topics so that Anub’rekhan could be useful to the kingdom outside of war, but a part of him had always yearned to see a battlefield, and now he finally had the opportunity.

Anub’rekhan was pulled away from his thoughts as he was suddenly forced to stop moving when a priest brazenly walked through his path. He turned to watch the human and felt a little of his good mood diminish as he caught sight of the medical tent in which the Alliance was keeping most of their wounded. The priest continued to ignore everything in her path as she rushed into the tent.

How annoying…

Ever since Anub’rekhan had begun learning how to channel the Light, he had started to notice that he was feeling… uncharacteristic bouts of compassion.

It was not as if compassion and sympathy were completely foreign sensations to Anub’rekhan, but it was not an emotion that was typically rewarded in Azjol-Nerub. His compassion was typically reserved for his subordinates, and he generally only acted on it when it was safe for him to do so. Anub’rekhan had known there was a good chance that the Light would begin affecting his thoughts as he started using it more and more. It was a fairly obvious possibility when almost every other kind of magic left an effect on those who wielded them.

It was not something that particularly bothered him. Everyone with sense understood that power came with a price, and a greater degree of sympathy was not the worst price to pay.

Still, it was a strange thing for him to experience…

Anub’rekhan’s attention was caught by a young human that was curling up in pain as he waited outside of the medical tent. If someone had told him a few months ago that he would be looking at the sight of an injured human and feel anything aside from apathy, then he would not even have bothered to laugh at such an absurd thought.

Yet here he was, walking toward a creature that he would not have given a second thought a few months ago.

“Human, what injuries have you sustained?” asked Anub’rekhan as he towered over the groaning soldier.

Anub’rekhan could hear the human’s heartbeat quicken as he looked up to look at the Spiderlord looming over him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he was soon distracted from his fear by the pain of his injuries.

“One of the damned greenskins took a hammer to my side,” the human said through clenched teeth. “The bastard smashed in my armor, broke my ribs, and messed up my insides. Healers say it ain’t fatal, but it damn sure feels like I’m dying.”

Anub’rekhan hummed in interest as he considered the human before speaking again, “Risking one's life to protect your people is something that I find worthy of respect, human. I am not able to completely heal your injuries, but I am able to ease your pain. Will you allow me to do so?”

The human looked up at Anub’rekhan with surprise and suspicion, but his pain proved to be greater than his mistrust because he gave the Spiderlord a short nod after a few moments.

Seeing no reason to delay, Anub’rekhan did not hesitate to put the end of his scythe-like arms against the human's chest. Channeling the Light had gradually grown easier for him with dedicated practice, and he had reached the point where it responded nearly as soon as he called for it.

Anub’rekhan felt a soft thread of power flow through his arm and into the human. Healing complex injuries was far beyond his current capabilities, but easing pain in a person was as simple as channeling the Light and wishing for it to be done.

After a few moments, the human visibly sagged in relief and offered Anub’rekhan a grateful smile.

“Thanks for that. It would’ve been ages before the healers managed to see me. Too many people here who need help more than I do.”

“Your gratitude is unnecessary,” said Anub’rekhan, feeling vaguely uncomfortable by the human’s genuine gratitude. Seeing no reason to stay, he turned to leave and continue to his destination, only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

“Your bedside manner could use some work, big guy.”

Anub’rekhan looked down and was surprised to see a small pink-haired gnome staring up at him, especially one that he recognized. It was a rare thing for someone to successfully sneak up on him, but he had subconsciously dismissed the gnome’s tiny heartbeat as belonging to the local wildlife.

Although he had not seen much of Trixie Tinkwrench since his arrival to Capital City, the gnome had made enough of an impression that Anub’rekhan had not forgotten her. That impression was mostly due to the fact that she was the smallest sapient creature that he had ever met, even more so than skitterers and flyers, but she also managed to impress him with her Shrink Ray.

“Trixie Tinkwrench, I am surprised to see you here,” Anub’rekhan said honestly. “Were you not working alongside Gnomeregan’s representatives in Capital City? What business do you have here?”

“Ugh, I forgot how big you were. I’m going to hurt myself looking up at you like this,” Trixie said with a groan as she strained her neck to look fully up at him. “As for why I’m here and not in Capital City, there’s no need for me to be there anymore. My skills can be better used here than over there.”

“Oh? How so?” Anub’rekhan asked curiously.

“Well, I’m not exactly a diplomat, and I don’t have any fancy family connections like Malzie,” Trixie explained. “Once I told them everything I knew about you spiderfolk, there wasn’t much for me to do there that Malzie couldn’t do by himself. I’ve always been an explorer and a warrior, an embassy isn’t any kind of place for someone like me.”

“I see. Then you’ve come here to fight the Horde?”

“Of course,” said Trixie, looking at him as if the answer was obvious. “How could I live with myself if I just sat back in Capital City while everyone else is off fighting and dying?” Trixie looked away from him, her expression growing haunted. “Especially when the Horde is still trying to besiege Gnomeregan as we speak. If I had any doubt that the Horde is filled with monsters, they disappeared once the first refugees from Khaz Modan started coming in.”

Anub’rekhan barely held back an annoyed groan as he was assaulted by another uncharacteristic bout of sympathy.

How troublesome…

Anub’rekhan couldn’t help but feel a growing respect for the gnome. He had been raised from birth to become a powerful weapon that could effectively protect his people, so he held a favorable opinion toward anyone who was willing to risk their life to do the same. That was compounded by the fact that the gnome was willing to leave a comfortable position in Capital City to confront enemies that could likely slay her in a single hit.

Although Anub’rekhan had not yet faced the Horde himself, he had already managed to see an orc firsthand. The creatures were both larger and stronger than humans and were much stronger than gnomes.

“Why are you so willing to face the Horde?” asked Anub’rekhan, curious to hear the gnome's answer. “You are small and weak. Any orc would be a difficult foe for you to face, much less an ogre.”

He expected the gnome to be insulted by his question, but Trixie merely scoffed before replying, “Not all of us can be twenty-foot-tall behemoths. I’ve been small my entire life, but I’m more than able to hold my own. There’s a good reason that the Horde still hasn’t taken Gnomeregan, so you better not underestimate gnomes, big guy.”

Anub’rekhan listened closely to the gnome’s heart and decided that her confidence was genuine. How interesting.

“I look forward to watching you prove yourself, Trixie Tinkwrench,” said Anub’rekhan nodding toward the gnome.

“You’ll probably get the chance if what I heard was true. I’ve been told that you were going to head to the battlefield yourself. When’s that going to happen?” asked Trixie, her tone growing excited. “I’d love to watch you tear through the orcs with those giant scythe hands of yours.”

“The Alliance wishes to wait until the Horde sends their undead dragons,” said Anub’rekhan. He had never faced a dragon himself, so he was looking forward to it. Perhaps he would even be able to capture one of the Death Knights that were responsible for making the creatures.

The knowledge of how the Horde was able to accomplish this would be extremely valuable.

The two of them spoke about many matters related to the ongoing war before Anub’rekhan realized that he was going to be late if he stayed much longer. He was only slightly surprised to find the gnome following him as he began making his way to the local human lord’s manor.

“Where are we going?” Trixie asked curiously as she jogged at a light pace to keep up with his long strides.

“The Alliance navy has sent someone to inform the Supreme Commander of the events that happened out at sea,” said Anub’rekhan, not bothering to slow down. He was a bit surprised that the gnome was insisting on following him, but he found that he did not mind Trixie’s presence. “The Horde fared surprisingly well due to their undead dragons, and I wish to listen to their conversation. What they have to say potentially have significant implications for the future of this war.”

“How are you planning on actually hearing what they have to say?” asked Trixie, audibly confused. “You’re way too big to fit into the manor. I’m afraid there aren’t any super-powerful wizards around to bend space for you.” With that, Trixie seemed to have an idea before she looked up at him with excitement. “Do you want to borrow my Shrink Ray? You’ll still be huge, but you might be able to fit.”

“I have an extremely sharp sense of hearing,” Anub’rekhan admitted easily. He had already informed the Supreme Commander about some of his capabilities, though he kept much to himself. As long the Alliance did not know exactly how sharp his hearing was, then there was little need to keep it a secret. “I will be able to hear their conversation clearly from outside of the manor.”

In truth, Anub’rekhan could have simply asked for one of the paladins that he was acquainted with to share the information with him, but he preferred to hear the information firsthand.

Trixie’s jaw dropped open at that information. After a moment she seemed to collect herself and began drowning Anub’rekhan in a deluge of questions. “That’s amazing! How is that possible? Is it a magical artifact? No, it’s probably biological. Do you have special sensory organs somewhere in your body? Can you see really far as well? Can all Spiderlords hear that well or did your Queens make you extra special?”

“I can see about as far as any other nerubians, although my field of vision is likely better than yours, and I am indeed ‘extra special,’” Anub’rekhan said smugly.

The gnome continued to ask questions about him and his biology, but Anub’rekhan was unable to answer much of what she asked, either because he did not know or he was not permitted to say.

The questions only stopped once they reached their destination and Anub’rekhan realized that the humans were already speaking about the naval battle. A few of the guards glared at him with suspicion, but Anub’rekhan ignored them as he felt no need to hide his actions.

After bidding his gnome companion be quiet, Anub’rehkan turned his focus to the human officers and settled in to listen.

“—ragon was about to light us all on fire when a lucky shot managed to shatter its lower jaw. After that, the damned abomination and the Death Knight landed on our ship and started tearing the crew apart.”

Anub’rekhan could hear a thick layer of emotion in the human’s voice. They must have brought a member of the ship’s crew to give their direct testimony.

“Feel free to take a moment if you need to, Petty Officer Penney,” came the calm voice of Uther. “There is nothing so urgent that we cannot wait.”

“Paladin Uther is correct,” said Supreme Commander Lothar.

“With all due respect, I want to get this over with, Supreme Commander,” said the Petty Officer.

“Very well. What happened after the dragon landed on the Tidemother’s Vengeance? I find it difficult to imagine how you fought off such a dreadful creature, yet the ship managed to return to port,” said Lothar.

“Well, the wicked creature didn’t hesitate to start tearing us to pieces, you’re right about that. But it couldn’t breathe its fire, and it was slow and clumsy. After a bit, some of the other ships in the fleet started firing on it with their cannons. Sent the bastard running away real quick once one of its ribs was blown to bits.”

“Yet this left the Death Knight still on the ship, didn’t it? The one that injured Grand Admiral Proudemoore so grievously?” asked Uther, his voice filled with concern.

“Yes… the monster called itself Teron Gorefiend. I’ll be honest, I think that thing was more dangerous than the dragon it rode in on. Only man who could stand against it was the Captain, anyone else who got close just got cut down and turned into an undead.”

“Please tell us what the fight between Grand Admiral Proudemoore and this Death Knight looked like,” said Lothar, sounding focused.

Anub’rekhan couldn’t help but nod in approval. Gathering information on the capabilities of an enemy as important as the Death Knights was a high priority.

“Well, the two of them were both really fast, and skilled with the blade. I’d say the Captain was more skilled because kept managing to get past the monster’s guard and carve into him, sir.”

“How well did the Death Knight’s equipment manage to hold up to the Grand Admiral’s saber?” asked Uther. “I’ve heard tales that the Proudmoores pass down a powerful enchanted blade through their family.”

“Aye. You’re talking about Tidebringer,” said the Petty Officer, sounding awed at the mere mention of the blade. “I’ve seen that saber cut through steel armor as if it wasn’t even there, but the Death Knight’s blade managed to stand up to it. His armor didn’t fare too well though.”

Hmm… how strange.

Anub’rekhan wondered how the Horde was able to create magical weapons capable of withstanding blows from this so-called Tidebringer. The Horde’s strange magic truly could not be underestimated.

“If that’s the case, then why was the Grand Admiral harmed so grievously if he was both more skilled and better equipped?” questioned Uther.

“It’s hard to say for sure, but I think he just started to get tired,” the Petty Officer said with uncertainty in his voice. “They were going back and forth for a while, but nothing the Captain did to the freak managed to slow it down. The blows he managed to land would have killed a human, he even pulled out his pistol halfway through the fight and shot off half its face! But it just kept laughing, swinging its sword, and throwing its evil magic at anything that got near.”

The room grew silent as everyone listening paused to imagine such a fearsome foe.

“What happened next, Petty Officer?” asked the Supreme Commander, his voice more grim than Anub’rekhan had ever heard from the man.

“Eventually, it seemed like the Captain understood he wouldn’t be able to beat the thing in a fight, so he pushed the monster off and ran over to the magic thing that the Captains use to talk to each other over long distances,” said the Petty Officer, sounding subdued. “By that time the Second Fleet had gotten pretty close, and everyone was doing their best to retreat, sir. They managed to blow apart the Horde ships that were trying to board us, but it was too dangerous to stay.”

“According to the reports we’ve received, the Grand Admiral ordered a full retreat and gave permission to board his ship so that he could receive reinforcements, correct?” asked Lothar.

“Aye, that’s right. The Captain wouldn’t have wanted his crew to be stuck with that monster if it managed to kill him. It was enough to scare the Death Knight away, but not before it managed to get in a lucky hit. Didn’t look so bad at first, it was a pretty deep cut in the Captain's leg, but he could still fight well enough to stop the monster from finishing him off. It wasn’t until after that we realized something was wrong.”

“What is the Grand Admiral's current condition? Our most recent reports tell us that the Death Knight’s evil magic lingered in the wound,” said Uther, his voice filled with righteous anger.

“We got the most powerful priests we could find, but they’ve been calling it a cursed wound. They said that there was nothing they could do,” the Petty Officer said dejectedly. “When I left, they were saying that he wasn’t going to be able to keep the leg. The crew’s been taking it pretty hard, sir. We all owe the Captain our lives, but we can’t do anything for him.”

Anub’rekhan took a moment to consider the implications of this. If Proudmoore was a nerubian, then he would have been an important enough figure to warrant a Queen giving him a replacement limb, not that losing a single leg would have been that big of a loss for a nerubian.

Unfortunately for Proudmoore, he was merely a human, so his loss of a leg was a permanent affliction that would render him incapable of continuing his duties any time soon and at reduced effectiveness even when healed.

The war between the Alliance and the Horde had only just gotten started and they would already need to replace their Grand Admiral. That was not a good sign for them.

Anub’rekhan continued to listen to the conversation, but the rest of it was much less interesting. The Fleets managed to get together and retreat to a dock in Gilneas, where they had remained since. The only other topic of interest was when the Supreme Commander began asking questions about the Kul’tiran Tidesages, who had apparently betrayed their own people.

How loathsome…

They spoke of possible explanations, such as a hidden cult that practices something called ‘Shadow magic.’ A kind of magic that he had never heard of before.

That was something that Anub’rekhan would have to look into in the future, and report to the High King.

“Well? Anything interesting, big guy?” asked Trixie once it became obvious that he was no longer focused on the conversation going on in the manor.

Anub’rekhan turned his attention back down to the gnome that was currently leaning against one of his legs. Any other Spiderlord would have been affronted by such casual contact, but Anub’rekhan had never been one to concern himself with such meaningless things.

“Well, these Death Knights might prove to be a more entertaining enemy than expected,” said Anub’rekhan before beginning to share the contents of the meeting with the gnome.

If his predictions were accurate, then the Horde and the Alliance would soon be having a huge battle over the fate of Hillsbrad Foothills, and the Death Knights would be certain to participate.

Anub’rekhan looked forward to seeing their power with his own eyes.

Chapter Text

Krivax could feel his exhaustion grow worse as he read through the reports detailing the ongoing war. More specifically, the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him over the past few months grew worse when he read about the demonstrable effect that his actions were having on the course of history.

Originally, the Horde would have used the red dragons that they had enslaved to push back the Alliance fleet, and the fact that this had not happened was obviously something that Krivax was happy about, but his efforts had not been quite as successful as he had hoped.

The Horde still managed to find some dragons, although ones that were markedly less alive than they were in canon, and land their troops in Hillsbrad Foothills. Not only that but Daelin Proudmoore had been seriously maimed and had even lost a limb. While the Alliance had come out ahead by not losing as large a portion of their navy, they had still lost one of the most experienced naval minds in the Eastern Kingdoms. It would take quite a while before they could stick a peg leg on Proudmoore, heal him up, and send him back out to sea.

It was at times like this that Krivax wished that he had been reincarnated into a bronze dragon. His life would be much easier if he could freely see the effect that his actions would have on the future. For the most part, Krivax had felt that he had gotten extremely fortunate in how his actions had turned out for him so far.

But this was a stark reminder that his decisions could have unanticipated consequences, and the forces he was working against would not simply lay down and fail to adapt.

All of this would be easier if I wasn’t so weak…

In truth, Krivax was not weak at all… but that was only when you took his age into account. In between his politicking and scheming, Krivax had not let up in his magical studies for even a moment, but it was simply not enough. Azeroth was a deathworld in which the main antagonists were generally extremely powerful creatures that had been around for millennia.

Deathwing, and the other Aspects, were so old that Krivax didn’t even have a good way to estimate how long they had been around, despite his metaknowledge. In addition to that, they had all been empowered by cosmic entities powerful enough to destroy worlds with little effort.

Compared to Krivax, Deathwing was so powerful that he might as well be a god. Even Hadix, as unexpectedly powerful as he was showing himself to be, would not last for more than a few moments when faced with Deathwing's true power.

When the difference between him and his enemies was so great, Krivax found it difficult to see how he could possibly become powerful enough to affect the fate of Azeroth. Of course, he did have a few ideas about how he could drastically increase his power, there were many extremely valuable secrets in this world that Krivax was privy to, after all.

However, Warcraft as a franchise tended to gate powerful artifacts or magical items behind equally powerful defenses. Power always came at a price and Krivax was… reluctant to risk his life to acquire it. He wasn’t particularly interested in becoming some super-powerful being; his greatest dream was to simply be able to explore the beauty of Azeroth without having to worry about himself or the people he cared about being killed.

But… Krivax couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t as close to achieving that dream as he wished he was. Most of his days were now filled with diplomacy, politics, and worrying about insane dragons trying to destroy the world. Was this how his life was going to be from now on? After Deathwing was dealt with, was he just going to move on to worrying about the Lich King next?

It was all just starting to feel… incredibly exhausting.

Maybe I should just take a risk? Would it be worth it to risk my life trying to gain more power if it meant that I could live more freely?

Krivax wasn’t certain what the correct answer to that was, but it was a question that had been on his mind more and more lately. However, there was nothing he could do about it in the short term, so he forced himself to push these thoughts aside for now. The Second War was still raging and Deathwing was still an active threat that needed to be dealt with.

All that was left to him was to use his metaknowledge to position the good guys in the best position possible to improve the future.

And it seems like I’ll get a chance to do that soon, Krivax thought with grim satisfaction.

Krasus had finally returned to Dalaran, and Krivax would make certain to point him straight at Daval Prestor. Most of his time since he had informed Hadix about the current situation had been spent assisting Stormwind in gathering evidence. Hadix had assisted by investigating the potential victims for mental influences and had managed to detect faint traces of the Void that Stormwind had missed.

Krivax was the one who would be presenting all of this evidence to Dalaran, and he had every intention of incriminating Daval Prestor as much as possible.

After causing so much trouble, he only wished that he could have the chance to see the look on Deathwing's scaly face when he realized that his human disguise had been discovered and the Aspects would be all gathered to tear him to pieces.

Krivax was not usually a particularly vindictive person, but he felt like Deathwing was someone who he could make an exception for. He only hoped that, unlike in canon, they actually managed to finish Deathwing off so that he couldn’t come back to cause problems in the future.

Krivax cast a convenient spell that he had learned recently that would tell him the current time and discovered that it was nearly time for his meeting. The Council of Six would not normally gather just because they were asked to, but Azjol-Nerub was simply too powerful and important to the ongoing war effort for them to decline.

Honestly, despite this not being his first time meeting with them, Krivax was feeling a bit nervous. This was the first time that he was trusted enough to meet with such powerful figures without having his hand held by one of his superiors.

He had earned that trust by handling Azjol-Nerub’s affairs with only… minor slip-ups.

Although, I suppose it helps that there aren’t many nerubians who are particularly interested in doing what I’m doing…

He really didn’t want to ruin all of his hard work by making a fool of himself in front of the Council of Six. Krivax spent the next few minutes going over what he intended to say while also preparing his scrying tools. Although the Council of Six had granted him an audience, there was no convenient way for them to hold it in person. Many of the Archmages were incredibly busy with their own affairs due to the war and were not currently in Dalaran.

Once he was done preparing himself, Krivax took a deep breath and cast the necessary spell to connect him to the Council of Six.

Fortunately, it seemed like the Archmages had been waiting and none of them were interested in wasting their time. Soon enough, Krivax was looking at the images of five Archmages, with the only missing member being Kel’thuzad.

That was fine with him, the only one that he truly cared about was Krasus.

“Greetings, Vizier Krivax,” Antonidas immediately said once the scrying connection was made. Krivax had a feeling that the Grand Magus wanted to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible. “I apologize for Archmage Kel’thuzad’s absence, but he had important prior commitments and was unable to join this meeting.”

“It’s not a problem, Grand Magus. I understand that you are all very busy,” Krivax said politely. “I’m grateful that you were all so willing to accept Azjol-Nerub’s request for a meeting despite the ongoing difficulties of the war.”

“Well you all certainly made it sound important,” Archmage Modera replied dryly. “But you are correct that we are quite busy, so let's get to the heart of the matter. Why have you called for this meeting? Is there an issue with our ongoing trade agreement with Azjol-Nerub?”

It was becoming increasingly obvious with every report that came from the front lines that beasts being provided by Azjol-Nerub were well worth the price that the Alliance had paid for them. Krivax wasn’t surprised that they would be the first thing that the Archmages would think about.

“No, as I informed Archmage Runeweaver in our most recent meeting, Azjol-Nerub is completely capable of providing the beasts throughout the war, despite the high rate of attrition,” Krivax assured the Council.

“Then what is the subject of this meeting?” asked Prince Kael’thas.

“I’ve called this meeting to bring a matter to your attention that affects the interests of both Azjol-Nerub and Stormwind,” said Krivax. Although he wasn’t able to read their body language, Krivax had no doubt that his words had aroused the interest of the Archmages.

“I was not aware that Azjol-Nerub and Stormwind were on friendly enough terms that you feel comfortable speaking for them,” said Krasus with barely concealed suspicion.

“We were not until we recently became aware that we were both being targeted by the same malicious actors,” said Krivax, ignoring the dragon’s tone. “Prince Varian presented us with convincing evidence that someone has been using magic to manipulate the minds of the nobility against our kingdoms. Stormwind even believes that these people are the reason why nobody was willing to respond to their requests for aid when they were fighting against the Horde.”

There was a stunned silence among the council before Archmage Modera spoke up, “That is ludicrous! We would have certainly noticed such widespread manipulation. What you are proposing would only be possible for a mage far more powerful than any single member of this Council or an organization of renegade mages that would have not escaped our notice. Who do you claim is responsible for this, and what evidence do you have?”

Krivax didn’t get upset by the Archmage’s fervent denials. He hadn’t exactly expected to receive a warm response when he was basically telling the Council of Six that they had failed so badly at their job that an entire human kingdom had been destroyed because of it.

He was practically insulting them all to their faces.

“According to the evidence provided by Stormwind, we believe that House Prestor is primarily respon—”

“Who? I’ve never heard anything about a ‘House Prestor’ in my life,” said Archmage Modera, interrupting Krivax’s explanation. “Do you truly expect this Council to believe that some no-name noble house in the middle of nowhere was able to use magic on such a vast scale under our noses?”

“Archmage Modera, please allow the Vizier to finish his explanation,” said Krasus, sounding grave.

Krivax felt more than a little relieved that the dragon was already taking this seriously. It was likely that the dragon was already reaching the conclusion that Krivax wanted him to. Krasus was aware of both Deathwing and the Void’s natural ability to manipulate the minds of people. Couple that with the extremely suspicious fact that nobody at all sent help for Stormwind, it wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to reach.

“Thank you, Archmage Krasus,” said Krivax. “As I was saying, Stormwind has managed to gather circumstantial evidence that Lord Daval Prestor is responsible for manipulating the minds of nobles in Lordaeron through the use of magic. They have also gathered evidence that House Prestor has been making deals to undermine both Stormwind and Azjol-Nerub.”

The conversation grew quiet once again as the Council of Six considered the seriousness of his claims. Krivax could tell that they did not believe his claims, but their relationship with Azjol-Nerub was too important for them to risk harming relations by dismissing him out of hand.

“Tell me everything that you know about this situation, and present your evidence,” said Antonidas said firmly.

Krivax did so gladly. It took him a while, but Krivax did not hesitate to share every little bit of evidence that Stormwind had managed to gather. The evidence about mental manipulations was not as strong as Krivax would have wished them to be, but House Prestor’s mundane crimes were already sufficient to implicate them.

In the end, it didn’t really matter if the evidence was enough to convince the entire Council of Six. As long as Krasus was able to read between the lines, then it was mission accomplished as far as Krivax was concerned.

Once he was done laying everything out to the council, it was surprisingly Prince Kael’thas who was the first to speak, “I must admit, while none of your evidence is very convincing on its own, it does become fairly compelling once you look at it from a broader point of view.”

“What? How could you say that?” Archmage Modera asked her fellow council member in surprise. “After hearing the evidence, I agree that there is likely some malicious group that is targeting both Stormwind and Azjol-Nerub, but they barely have any evidence that there is magic involved in this matter.”

“This is not the first time that I’ve found myself suspicious about how Stormwind fell without any of us knowing about it,” Kael’thas calmly explained. “Malicious action by a powerful organization would explain how this happened under our aegis. In that context, the evidence that Vizier Krivax has presented is enough to convince me that House Prestor is deeply suspicious and is worthy of investigation.”

“A proper investigation would take much of our already limited time,” said Antonidas. “We must be certain this is warranted before we make such a commitment.”

Krivax stayed quiet as the Council of Six argued the merits of investigating House Prestor amongst each other, focusing most of his attention on Krasus. He was sure that the dragon should have already connected Daval Prestor to Deathwing, but he was beginning to grow nervous as Krasus maintained his silence.

Krivax was in the middle of answering a question asked by Archmage Modera about the evidence when Krasus finally decided to speak up, “I believe that we should launch a full investigation of Lord Daval Prestor.”

After a moment of silence, Antodias was the first to respond, “Why do you believe we should do that, Archmage Krasus?”

“I largely agree with Prince Kael’thas. The events that took place around Stormwind make no sense,” said Krasus. “Not only that but has anybody asked why any organization would choose to target both Stormwind and Azjol-Nerub? The only reasonable explanation is that they are trying to aid the Horde. Regardless of whether or not magic is involved in this matter, it would be foolish to ignore the dagger that is about to be buried into our backs.”

Krivax felt a growing sense of satisfaction as the conversation gradually turned in his favor. Krasus had obviously noticed the clues that had been prepared for him and was now turning his attention to Daval Prestor. Once he knew for certain that Daval Prestor was the human identity of Deathwing, the only remaining problem would be finding the Dragon Soul.

It would be difficult, but there were a limited number of places where Deathwing could logically keep it.

After that happened, Krivax was certain that Krasus and the other Aspects would be able to put together a plan to deal with Deathwing. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

Krivax was in the middle of daydreaming about dragons fixing all of his problems and ending the war with the Horde in a single day when he realized that Krasus was asking him a question.

“I apologize Archmage Krasus, could you repeat your question?”

“I was asking whether or not Azjol-Nerub and Stormwind were doing anything further to investigate Lord Prestor,” said Krasus

Ah. I guess he’s probably worried about someone tipping off Deathwing.

Truthfully, Krivax had been a bit worried about the same thing after Hadix had informed him of his intent to look into Daval Prestor. If Deathwing learned that his human disguise was already so heavily suspected, then nothing good would come of it. Krivax had also grown quite fond of his curmudgeonly mentor and didn’t want him to get squashed like a spider being stepped on by a dragon.

He had been slightly reassured when Hadix informed him that he didn't intend to confront Prestor directly and would instead investigate discreetly. Hadix had been doing stuff like this for centuries, so Krivax was sure that he knew what he was doing.

Krivax quickly told Krasus that his teacher was looking into House Prestor carefully, not that it seemed to reassure him.

“I do hope that he isn’t caught,” Krasus said worriedly, unknowingly echoing Krivax’s own thoughts. “If House Prestor is indeed responsible for everything that you claim they are responsible for, then they are extremely powerful and dangerous. This matter is one that needs to be handled with delicacy.”

“We understand that, Archmage. Azjol-Nerub will not do anything that lets Prestor know that he’s under suspicion,” said Krivax.

“I’m glad the hear that,” said Krasus, still not sounding assured.

Krasus turned his attention back to the ongoing conversation and Krivax allowed his thoughts to drift to worrying about his mentor. He really hoped that Hadix wouldn’t end up making him a liar.

Hadix glared balefully at House Prestor’s ancestral home and knew instantly that he was in the right place.

The building was completely covered in a dense weave of protective spells that was extremely out of place considering Prestor’s supposed level of wealth. They were so dense and complicated that the vast majority of Viziers would have absolutely no hope of entering the building undetected. Even he, who was more capable than most at sneaking past magical defenses, would not be able to get in easily.

According to information provided by Stormwind, Daval Prestor should be handling business in Alterac, and the man’s goblin servant should be away from the manor as well. Despite having several children, none of them were known to live in the Prestor’s family manor, so it should currently be completely empty.

It was a strange thing for a human noble to have only one servant, but it was obvious to Hadix that Prestor was not a normal noble.

Still, he would have expected the building to be busier than it was. Void cultists had a tendency to congregate if they were not culled quickly enough.

Knowing that he would not receive any answers from glaring at the building, Hadix began to carefully weave a path through the wards. It was a time-intensive task, he would dismantle the wards completely, but he could not afford to leave behind any indication of his intrusion. Void cultists were easiest to deal with when they did not know that they were being hunted.

Hadix had every intention of learning everything that he could about his enemy before he exterminated them.

With a hum of pleasure, Hadix stabilized the path through the first layer of magical defenses and immediately began working on the rest. Every new spell was more complex and lethal than the last, and Hadix began feeling impressed by the skill of his target.

These humans are truly more capable than I had given them credit for, Hadix grudgingly admitted. How is it that they manage to learn so much in so little time?

Hadix eventually succeeded in getting through the final layer of external wards. He was certain that there would be more inside the manor, but he would need to go inside to find out.

Of course, he had no intention of actually entering the building with his own body when he didn’t need to.

With practiced ease, Hadix cast the spell to send his mind into the flyer that he had brought with him. Not only was using a flyer much safer than risking his own body, but Hadix had found over the years that many mages created wards that did not work on them.

He could not recall the number of times that he had been confronted with a complex alarm ward, only to discover that the casting mage had created an exception for animals to prevent false alarms.

Hadix didn’t hesitate to send the flyer over the tall walls that surrounded the manor. Once past the walls, he was immediately confronted with a rather simple alarm spell, much more simple than he would have expected.

Attempting to lure me into a false sense of security?

If so, then their efforts were doomed to failure. Hadix had not lived as long as he had by being uncautious; it would take something truly exceptional to surprise him.

Hadix directed the flyer through an opening that would allow it access to the building, only to immediately be confronted by the most potent source of Void that he had felt in centuries. Forcing down his discomfort, Hadix carefully inspected the deadly Void spell that was set to protect the interior of the manor from any intruders. It was easily one of the most dangerous and sophisticated examples of Void magic that he had ever seen.

With morbid curiosity, Hadix took a calming breath and began to use his extensive experience to analyze the spell’s structure.

Hmm… it seems like this spell was created specifically to kill mages. I can tell that almost any counterspell would quickly have its magic devoured and absorbed. The spell has a tracking component, so fleeing would be useless… it would even have followed me through my link to the flyer.

The more Hadix looked at the spell, the more uncomfortable he became. He could already tell that if he had walked into this spell unaware then he would have died a painful death.

It doesn’t seem to have an alarm function, but the caster would be able to tell that it was triggered once they returned to it. The trigger seems set to go off by proximity. However, there does seem to be something more complex about this spell that I’m not seeing…

After a few moments, Hadix realized what he was missing and immediately tried to sever his connection to the flyer. Unfortunately, it was too late.

The flyer was dead faster than Hadix could react. The last thing it saw was a maw filled with razor-sharp teeth manifesting beside it and spewing out black tentacles from its depths. Now that same maw was manifesting from thin air next to Hadix, and he was already running away and beginning to cast the only spell he knew that might save his life.

The Void, however, had no intention of allowing him to live long enough to finish casting that spell. Hadix hurriedly reached into his spatial bag and threw out one of his most powerful defense artifacts at the tentacle that was reaching for him. The artifact activated and instantly created a powerful arcane barrier around Hadix without him needing to cast anything.

The force that resulted when the tentacle slammed into it was enough to stagger him, but Hadix did not allow his casting to interrupt for even a second. He knew that if he did, then he would not be able to survive.

It only took two more hits for the barrier to be shattered, the arcane magic making it up swiftly devoured.

A moment before Hadix was able to finish casting his spell, the tentacle wrapped itself around one of his lower arms and one of his legs, tearing them off with ease.

All of his defensive spells were rendered completely useless as the spell seemed to devour the magic sustaining them with its mere touch. It was only thanks to the fact that Hadix habitually used magic to ignore his own pain during a fight that he was able to prevent himself from screaming and instead finish his spell.

Just as the tentacles were about to finish him off, Hadix opened his mouth and let forth a stream of violet, iridescent webbing that surrounded the tentacles and the maw that it came from. Hadix could feel his mana reserves being quickly depleted, but he could already tell that his spell was working.

While the spell in Prestor manor was designed to use the Void to devour magic in general, his spell used arcane magic to suppress the Void.

The maw thrashed wildly against the webbing that surrounded it, but it failed to escape no matter how hard it tried. Eventually, it stopped moving and Hadix was able to tell that the spell had been successfully suppressed.

Hadix slumped over in relief, careful not to allow himself to become unbalanced due to his missing leg.

I have to move quickly.

Hadix reached into his spatial bag and quickly retrieved a potent healing elixir derived from troll blood. It would not be enough to regrow his limbs, but it would give him enough time to finish his business.

Once that was done, Hadix summoned every drop of resolve he could for what came next.

The Void energies that he had sensed from the spell that almost killed him were by far the most potent that Hadix had sensed in his life. Whoever created it was a threat that could not be permitted to exist.

He absolutely could not allow his own failure here to jeopardize that by letting them know that they were being investigated. Fortunately, the only spell that had been triggered was the Void spell, which did not have an alarm. Unfortunately, Prestor would realize what had happened as soon as he returned.

Hadix only hesitated for a moment before he turned his attention to the still-suppressed Void spell. It had triggered before because there was a portion of it that was capable of sensing those that were paying it extended attention. Hadix could feel that it wanted to continue attacking him, but there was no risk of it doing so as long as he was keeping it suppressed.

I’m starting to feel dizzy… I have to act soon.

Tightly locking away the intense disgust he felt at doing so, Hadix delved into the memories of the time that he spent with his mentor, Elder Yel’rin. Most of the lessons that Yel’rin had taught him were horrific, but Hadix had no choice but to make use of them in this instance. Memories of a time when he was young and naive, and had taken far too long to see the truth of the Elder who had promised to teach him secrets most Viziers could only dream of.

The spell that had nearly killed him was far too complex a creation for Hadix to replicate with the Void. However, he did not need to replicate it. He simply needed to restore it to its prior state before it had been triggered, which was just barely within his capabilities.

Hadix let out a shuddering breath and focused on channeling the Void. Immediately, he could feel his body attempting to reject the foul magic. He was well acclimated to arcane magic, so channeling other kinds of magic was not a simple task.

It took Hadix nearly ten minutes for him to return the spell to the state in which he had found it. Ten excruciating minutes where the pain of his missing limbs grew by the moment and the whispers grew ever louder.

As soon as he was finished, Hadix immediately closed the gaps he had made in the outer wards and searched his surroundings to make certain that nothing was out of place. Thankfully, it seemed like the maw had devoured his limbs whole, so he didn’t need to worry about any traces of blood.

Finally…

Once he was as certain as he could be that his attempted intrusion would not be discovered, Hadix used the last dregs of his magic to teleport himself to his student’s room in Capital City. If he had possessed the strength to do so, then Hadix might have actually laughed at the look on Krivax’s face when he appeared in his room missing an arm and a leg.

Stop worrying brat. It’s not like it's the first time I’ve ever lost a limb. This is merely the price of overconfidence.

As it was, Hadix didn’t have the strength to do anything aside from passing out on the floor. As the world faded to black, he couldn’t help but notice the oily whispers that vaguely sounded like his old master beginning to become audible in the back of his mind.

Oh… the whispers are back. Those aren’t going to go away for months, are they?

Chapter Text

“Are you ever going to stop fussing, brat?”

“Vizier Hadix, I don’t think bringing you your potions could be considered as ‘fussing,’” Krivax said in exasperation.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting them myself. I could teleport to and from the Queen’s cavern half a dozen times in the time it takes you to walk there.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing that you don’t have to,” Krivax calmly responded while placing the aforementioned potions down on a table next to Hadix’s web hammock.

Krivax normally wouldn’t feel comfortable rebuffing Hadix so casually, but his mentor had been acting… uncharacteristically distracted over the past week. Glancing at the older Vizier when he failed to respond, Krivax noticed that Hadix was once again lost in thought and staring off into space.

It was something that had been happening frequently ever since Hadix had gotten pulled apart by one of Deathwing’s traps.

Krivax felt his mood sour as he recalled the events that happened just a week ago.

It was only now that Krivax realized that he had built Hadix up to be some kind of indomitable figure in his mind. The Vizier was a skilled and ancient wizard who had always seemed able to handle everything that came his way. Even if Krivax had known intellectually that Deathwing was far outside of his weight class, he’d never truly considered the possibility that Hadix would be so heavily injured by some pre-set defenses.

He could still remember the panic that he had felt when Hadix had suddenly teleported into his room, bleeding heavily from his missing limbs. After he simply collapsed onto the floor without saying anything, Krivax had even thought that the Vizier might be dead.

Krivax felt a hint of shame when he remembered how long he had stood there in frozen shock; his slow reaction could have very nearly cost Hadix his life. It was only after he felt the growing pool of blood touching his feet that Krivax had pulled himself out of his stupor and sprung into action.

The first thing that he had done was send Masruk to bring a healer from the Church of the Holy Light as discreetly as possible. Krivax was extremely glad that Azjol-Nerub had a decent relationship with the Church thanks to Anub'rekhan because they had not hesitated to do so. The second thing that he had done was inform Vizier Crinis and Archmage Runeweaver of the situation.

The first was because she was nominally his superior, and the latter because he needed the Kirin Tor’s help to keep the issue quiet. Krivax had not had any idea at the time how much Deathwing had known about Hadix’s attempt to investigate his manor, or how bad things would get if everyone knew about the Vizier’s injuries. Given those circumstances, Krivax had felt that it was best to err on the side of caution.

So it was that Hadix’s injuries were tended to, they all secretly went to the safety of the nerubian enclave in Dalaran, and his teacher started to receive further treatment.

Still, Krivax knew that this event likely sent shockwaves through both Azjol-Nerub and the Kirin Tor. A diplomat, especially one as powerful as Hadix, being injured by a ‘human’ noble was no small matter. The only thing stopping it from turning into a gigantic political shitstorm was the need for secrecy.

After waking and hearing about how Krivax had handled things, Hadix had given him rare praise for ‘performing well and clear-minded during an emergency,’ but Krivax did not feel any pride.

Not when he had known the danger that the Vizier had been walking into and failed to say anything. Not when he still couldn’t bring himself to say anything, even after the fact.

It felt like every time that Krivax considered sharing what he knew, his mind turned to the worst possible outcomes.

“What nonsensical thoughts are going through that head of yours, Krivax?” asked Vizier Hadix, pulling him from his thoughts.

Krivax turned his attention back to the Vizier and was relieved to see that he had finished drinking all of the potions. Most of the potions did normal things like dulling pain or protecting him from infections, but two of them were a bit more esoteric. One of them was provided by the Order and was used by Hadix to clean his wounds of the Void.

There was absolutely no sign that Hadix was suffering from any kind of… magical infection, but the Vizier refused to take any chances.

The other was from a series of potions that Hadix would need to take over the course of several weeks. These potions would prepare his body for the magical ritual that would regrow his limbs.

While these potions were rather miraculous, they had the unfortunate side effect of making Hadix too tired to do much. Predictably, the Vizier despised being seen as helpless and was not the most pleasant of patients.

“I’m just thinking about how we’re going to move on from here,” Krivax lied. “The situation is more than a little complicated.”

“Obviously, the Order will need to do everything in its power to destroy the creature wearing the skin of Daval Prestor,” said Hadix, his tone grim.

One of the first things that Vizier Hadix had done after waking up was contact the Order and tell them about what had happened. He wanted them to immediately put together a kill squad composed of all their most powerful members, but something like that would take time if it ever happened.

“Do you think that they’ll be able to move quickly enough?” asked Krivax. “Didn’t you say that the Order hasn’t been able to send people to the Eastern Kingdom because the High King is watching them too closely? If Daval Prestor is as powerful as you say he is, it doesn’t seem likely that the Order will be able to organize a team to confront him anytime soon.”

Hadix took a moment to quietly consider the matter before he responded with a voice full of conviction, “Even if we are forced to rely on the aid of the Kirin Tor, we must do everything we can to see it dead. There’s no telling what kind of damage such a powerful creature could do if left to its own devices.”

Oh, I think I can imagine it just fine…

A lull grew in the conversation as both Hadix and Krivax both found themselves considering the severity of the situation, until the silence was suddenly broken when Hadix decided to address the elephant in the room, “Are truly you not going to ask, brat?”

“Do you truly want me to ask, Vizier Hadix?” asked Krivax, studying his mentor’s expression.

Vizier Hadix had not tried to hide that he had personally used the Void during his investigation at Deathwing’s manor. Even if he wanted to, Hadix had already taught Krivax how to sense the Void well enough that he could faintly sense it in his mentor. Krivax had not made a big deal about it due to Hadix’s injuries, but it wasn’t exactly something that they could avoid talking about forever.

“I thought that I had properly explained to you how dangerous the Void was. You should have demanded an explanation from me the moment that I told you.”

Well, alright then…

Since Hadix seemed to want to talk about it now, Krivax decided that it would be best to just address the matter directly, “Why do you know how to use the Void? Does the Order know that you can use it?”

“Of course they do,” said Hadix, scoffing. “They’re the ones who rescued me from the insane fool that taught me how to use it in the first place.”

“Who taught you?” Krivax asked curiously.

Hadix assessed him for several moments before responding, “This is not normally information that I would share, but I believe it is a story that you need to hear. The Void’s influence in the Eastern Kingdoms is far more powerful than I imagined, and you need to understand how subtle and corruptive it can be.”

“I understand, Vizier,” Krivax said solemnly.

Hadix nodded at him before he began telling his story in a voice that was too neutral to not be forced, “Much like you, I was recognized to be exceptionally talented at learning magic, and managed to catch the attention of a powerful Vizier who wished to take me on as an apprentice. His name was Elder Yel’rin, and he was the leader of the Lost Knowledge Research Division, and he was one of the most knowledgeable and influential Viziers in the capital.”

As he spoke about his old mentor, Krivax felt like he could hear a bit of melancholy creep into Hadix’s voice.

“Elder Yel’rin was a Vizier who was extremely dedicated to the acquisition and spreading of knowledge. Where many Viziers might have chosen to hoard their knowledge, Elder Yel’rin did not hesitate to teach me everything that he knew,” said Hadix, his gaze distant as he recalled old memories. “Without him, I can confidently say that I would not have grown to become half the mage that I did. He freely taught me magic that most mages had never even heard of. I grew to admire him more than any other Vizier in the kingdom.”

Despite his words, Krivax couldn’t see anything resembling admiration in the Vizier’s expression. He already had a good idea about where this story was headed.

“One day, Elder Yel’rin informed me that the Lost Knowledge Research Division had unearthed a network of ancient tunnels that predated the Sundering. He said that he was excited to teach me a new form of magic that he had discovered while studying artifacts that were discovered inside, and that he needed my help to learn more about it.”

“Why didn’t the Order stop him?” asked Krivax. “I’m sure they must have known that tunnels from before the Sundering would be dangerous.”

Hadix shook his head, more somber than Krivax had ever seen him, “The Order naturally monitors such old tunnels and the artifacts that come from them, but Elder Yel’rin was extremely influential at that time. It was not difficult for him to secretly acquire what he needed without anyone knowing. The Order did not realize what was happening until long after the first sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices?!”

“Yes. Artifacts were not the only thing that Elder Yel’rin found in those tunnels. At the lowest part of those tunnels was some kind of… creature. Even so many centuries later, I still do not know how to describe it,” said Hadix. “It felt as if it had been birthed from the Void itself. Until just a week ago, I had never again felt anything so utterly malevolent.”

Krivax shuddered at the description. It was likely that Hadix was talking about a N’raqi, or faceless ones, a race of eldritch creatures that had been created by the Old Gods.

“Whatever it was, it offered knowledge to Elder Yel’rin in exchange for either sacrifices or followers, a task that he was entirely too successful at accomplishing,” said Hadix, his voice returning to its forced neutrality. “I learned how to harness the Void from said knowledge, fractionally at least, but despite my misgivings about using it and the effect it had on me at the time I trusted my teacher above all else. Eventually, the Order learned the truth of what was happening and decided to approach me. I did not believe them, and I foolishly decided to personally confront Elder Yel’rin.”

Krivax experienced a quick burst of sympathy for Hadix. It was extremely obvious that such a confrontation could not have ended well.

“I learned that not only were the Order’s claims true, but the creature had also told Elder Yel’rin how to find more of its kind. I do not wish to share the details, but suffice to say he and I came into conflict and I was the only one to survive.”

Krivax remained quiet, unsure of what to say.

“After that, the Order recruited me into their ranks, managed to kill the creature, and acquit me of any wrongdoing,” said Hadix, his gaze losing the unfocused luster that they had taken on throughout the story and focusing on Krivax. “I had not used the Void since, locking away its tempting whispers behind centuries of arcane discipline and self-control… until recently. I tell you this because you must understand how capable that Void is at twisting people into monsters. The moment that you sensed it in me, you should have begun keeping your distance.”

Krivax continued to remain silent as he considered what he had heard. It was an awful story that exhibited the kind of horrible things that could happen in Azeroth, but he was not actually as naive as Hadix believed. If anything, the story just made him glad that had not been forced to go through anything similar.

“I will take your words to heart,” Krivax said earnestly. “But I genuinely don’t believe that you are anything like Elder Yel’rin. That fact that you’ve been able to resist the Void’s temptations for so long is proof enough for me.”

Vizier Hadix stared at him for several moments before scoffing and leaning back in his hammock, “One day, your soft heart is going to get you into trouble, Krivax. You’re entirely too trusting.”

Despite the rebuking words, Krivax felt like he could hear a faint fondness in his mentor’s voice.

Oh, Vizier Hadix. If only you knew how wrong you were…

Trust was not something that he’d ever had an abundance of.

After that, the two of them discussed the Kirin Tor and their ongoing investigation into Daval Prestor for several minutes before Hadix grew tired and Krivax decided to leave the room.

As soon as he left, Krivax was confronted with the figure of Masruk as his friend followed him back to his room

“Are you okay?” asked Masruk as soon as they were alone. They both knew that the past few days had not exactly been the easiest on Krivax.

“No, not really,” said Krivax, not elaborating further as he slumped over in exhaustion.

“Is it anything that you can talk about?”

Krivax wondered how he should respond to that. Should he just say, ‘Hey, this world is super terrifying,’ or ‘I’m scared that I’ve made everything worse and we’re all about to be killed by an insane dragon?’

After he realized that he wouldn’t be receiving a response, Masruk merely nodded in acceptance, “Even if I’m not as smart as you, I’m not an idiot. I know that you and Vizier Hadix are doing things that you can’t tell me about. Things that are important and weigh on you heavily.”

That didn’t surprise Krivax at all. Masruk had been there on more than one occasion when Krivax was covering for a missing Hadix. Not only that, but Hadix had not been shy about kicking Masruk out of a room whenever he wanted to speak with Krivax about something related to the Void.

Yet throughout it all Masruk never argued or complained; he simply did his duty with the same stoicism that he had possessed since they were just hatchlings. Masruk simply supported him all the while like the true friend he was… and it always made Krivax feel both grateful and guilty to have him in his corner.

“If you cannot tell me more, then I will not ask. I only wish to tell you one thing. If you are ever in danger and need my help, you will have my support.”

Krivax looked over to Masruk and was immediately able to tell what he was thinking. It was obvious that his friend was worried that Krivax would end up bleeding out on the ground like Hadix without having any way to know the cause.

As both a guard and a warrior, this must be something that grated heavily on his instincts.

“Thank you, Masruk. I don’t deserve a friend like you,” said Krivax, suddenly filled with emotion.

Masruk shook his head in denial, “You might not see it, but you’ve done more to change my life than anyone else, Krivax. If not for you, I’d probably be just another warrior in Kilah’kuk, and would have never gotten the chance to see all that I have. And for that, you have my eternal thanks.”

Maybe the ignorance would have been better…

“Masruk, I think that—” anything that Krivax was even thinking about saying was cut off as his magical senses felt something suddenly reach out, grab him, and bypass all of his passive defenses as if they did not even exist.

The last thing he saw was Masruk's shocked expression and outstretched hand before he vanished in a flash of light.

The mood in the Chamber of Air was grim as the Council of Six listened to the report being made by Archmage Runeweaver on the ongoing investigation into ‘Lord Daval Prestor.’

Ever since Vizier Hadix had been grievously injured while attempting to investigate the noble’s manor, the Council had been taking the matter far more seriously. Most of them recognized the Vizier as someone who likely held the skill of an Archmage, so the fact that he had been injured was no small matter. They were all extremely fortunate that they had been successful in keeping the affair under wraps and that it had not escalated into a diplomatic incident.

Krasus found his thoughts wandering to the events that brought them here.

He had been at his home while having a conversation with Lord Malygos through a scrying spell about their efforts to locate the Dragon Soul when he suddenly received a summons from the Council of Six. Once they all gathered, Krasus quickly learned that Vizier Hadix had been severely injured during his investigation, teleported to his student’s room in Capital City while missing several limbs, and immediately passed out on the floor.

Apparently, Krivax decided to ask Archmage Runeweaver to assist him in discreetly transporting the injured Vizier to the nerubian enclave in Dalaran and keeping the matter quiet.

Runeweaver immediately agreed to help and then used his authority as a member of the Council of Six to teleport Vizier Hadix through the city’s wards and brought him to the enclave. There had been a bit of discussion on whether or not Hadix should be sent to En’kilah to receive medical attention or if the nerubians would send a Queen to the city’s enclave, but they eventually settled on the latter option.

To think that the nerubian Queens could even regrow limbs with their magic…

Although it would take a significant amount of time for Vizier Hadix to regain his limbs, it didn’t take long for him to wake up after receiving medical treatment. It was only then that Archmage Runeweaver learned the full story and then called for an emergency meeting of the Council of Six. On that day, Krasus became as certain as he could reasonably be that Daval Prestor was Deathwing.

The Council of Six decided to make their investigation into Prestor their top priority, and Krasus immediately reported the news to the Aspects. It took some time, but the Aspects had eventually agreed on a plan for how they intended to deal with Deathwing, one that filled Krasus with a strange mix of anticipation and uneasiness.

Between the two groups, his recent days had been filled with many extremely important meetings, such as the one he was currently attending. Despite their busy schedules, the Council of Six had decided to meet within the Chamber of Air rather than holding the meeting over a scrying spell.

“As a result of our investigations, I believe we can determine that Lord Daval Prestor is very likely to be a powerful wielder of magic,” said Archmage Runeweaver, pulling Krasus’ attention back to the present.

“How so, Archmage Runeweaver?” asked Prince Kael’thas, leaning forward in his seat.

”I believe it is reasonable to reach this conclusion, simply on the fact that any attempt to study him through magic has failed to reveal anything,” said Archmage Runeweaver. House Prestor was ostensibly a small family of no significant renown, so there was really no reasonable explanation for why they could not scry Lord Prestor. “While it is true that he could possess some kind of powerful anti-divination artifact, even that would be extremely suspicious.”

“Even if it’s unlikely, it’s still a possibility,” said Archmage Modera, although she sounded as if she didn’t believe it herself.

None of Krasus’ colleagues were taking the news of this matter very well. If Daval Prestor was truly a powerful magic user, then that lent credibility to the rest of the claims made by Vizier Krivax. If there was an organization that had used magic to prevent Stormwind from receiving aid against the Horde, then the Kirin Tor had failed in their duties in a catastrophic fashion.

The kingdoms had always trusted Dalaran to protect them from rogue wizards, but it was looking more likely that their trust had been misplaced. As far as Krasus knew, Archmage Modera in particular had once had family in Stormwind.

“The wards on Prestor Manor are as powerful as Vizier Hadix has claimed,” Antonidas said grimly. “Despite my best efforts, I was unable to see past the outer-most layer. Even if Lord Prestor might possess some manner of artifact protecting him from magical observation, the wards on his manor are enough evidence that he is at least affiliated with an extremely powerful mage.”

The rest of the Council grew silent at the Grand Magus’ words. If the Grand Magus was referring to a mage as ‘extremely powerful,’ then it was clear to everyone gathered that they had stumbled onto something big.

If only they knew what they were up against. Although… I suppose they won’t remain ignorant for much longer.

“How are we going to handle this?” asked Kel’thuzad. He always was one to prefer action over words.

“Lord Prestor must be confronted. We cannot afford to ignore such a dangerous enemy in our midst while we are at war,” Krasus said truthfully. As far as he was concerned, Deathwing was by far a more significant threat than the Horde, and the Council of Six would need to help in dealing with him.

“It's not easy to form a strategy against an enemy with unknown capabilities,” said Prince Kael’thas.

“We do not have the time to conduct a full investigation,” Antonidas said firmly. It went without saying that such an investigation would risk any one of them being grievously wounded or killed, if Vizier Hadix was an example. “No matter how powerful this Lord Prestor might be, I sincerely doubt that he could stand up to the might of multiple Archmages.”

Krasus looked around and saw that everyone seemed to be in agreement with the Grand Magus. All of them were extremely powerful individuals, so it was difficult for the Archmages to believe that there could be a threat that they could not handle.

“You would be mistaken, mortal.”

Just as the Council was about to begin discussing some kind of plan to attack Prestor, they were suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

Dramatic as always…

Krasus watched in exasperation as a portal opened in the center of the Chamber of Air. He must have greatly underestimated how tense the war had made his colleagues because more than half of them were already throwing spells the moment an elf-shaped figure walked through the portal.

Archmage Modera summoned a half dozen water elementals throughout the chamber, Runeweaver instantly created a swirling firestorm around the intruder, and Kel’thuzad attempted to activate the chamber's defensive wards.

If they understood who they were facing, then they would have known that attempting to harm Lord Malygos with magic was far beyond the abilities of any mortal, no matter how skilled and accomplished.

With a wave of his hand, the Aspect of Magic simultaneously counter-spelled each of the Archmages' spells. The elementals disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, the firestorm fizzled out of existence while leaving behind nothing but smoke, and Kel’thuzad suffered a magical backlash as his connection to the wards was severed.

While that alone was enough to raise the perceived threat of Lord Malygos among the Council, Krasus knew that the Aspect could have done much worse. The smoke left behind by Runeweaver’s firestorm quickly began to clear and the mortals were able to get their first look at Lord Malygos’ mortal form.

Like many of the Aspects, his preferred mortal guise possessed distinct features that made it obvious that he was more than he seemed. Lord Malygos took the form of a regal blue-haired high elf with brightly glowing eyes and spikes of ice protruding in a neat row along the sides of his jaw as well as a row of horns that started at his forehead and disappeared into his hair.

Krasus recalled that in the past Lord Malygos' mortal form looked more like a normal highborne, but had since changed it. Most likely due to… his dislike of them after the War of the Ancients.

“Who are you, intruder? How did you pass through the chamber’s wards?” asked Antonidas, gripping his staff as oppressive waves of magic emanated from his body.

“Be honored, mortals. You are the first of your kind to stand in my presence in ten millennia,” said Lord Malygos, stepping further into the chamber and closing the portal behind him. “I am Malygos, Aspect of Magic and leader of the Blue Dragonflight.”

Krasus held mixed feelings as he studied the reactions of his colleagues. A part of him had always felt a little guilty over hiding his true nature from the people who he otherwise trusted. It felt a bit surreal that the Aspects had decided to involve themselves directly with the mortals, but they had reluctantly decided that this would be the best course of action.

Combined with the evidence brought forward by Stormwind and Azjol-Nerub, Vizier Hadix’s injury was enough to convince the Aspects that Daval Prestor was almost certainly the mortal guise of Deathwing. From there, they had immediately begun arguing about what they should do with this information.

As long as Deathwing still had possession of the Dragon Soul, attacking him head-on would be a foolish endeavor. In order for the Aspects to be able to confront Deathwing, the Dragon Soul would need to be located and retrieved by mortal hands. Otherwise, there would be an unacceptable risk that one of Deathwing’s mortal servants would use it to take control of the other Aspects.

If that were to happen, then there would be no one in Azeroth who could even hope to stand against the corrupted Aspect. The only problem was that they did not know with certainty where the Dragon Soul actually was.

However, they did have a decent idea.

Deathwing would by necessity need to keep the Dragon Soul in a well-guarded location that he could easily access. It would be useless if some mortal was to sneak off with it, or if it was too far away for Deathwing to actually use if he was ambushed. With that in mind, the Dragonflights had mobilized all of their mortal servants and were searching every location that they could think of.

With Lady Ysera searching through mortal dreams for anyone who had seen the Dragon Soul and Lord Malygos using his arcane knowledge to search as well, Krasus had no doubt that they would eventually find it.

“You claim to be a dragon?” Prince Kael’thas asked in surprise. Out of all the mortal races in the Eastern Kingdoms, his kind were the ones who knew the most about dragons.

“Did you not hear what I said, elf? I am far more than just a dragon,” Lord Malygos said with an annoyed expression before calming down a moment later. “Although I suppose I should not blame you mortals for not understanding the significance of my titles. Your ignorance is not truly your fault.”

Krasus barely held back a weary sigh. He really wished that Lord Malygos had not insisted on being the one to approach the Council of Six.

“Then please, educate us,” Krasus said quickly before the conversation could devolve any further. He could already see most of the Council was growing increasingly offended, aside from Kel’thuzad, who was staring at Lord Malygos as if he wanted to peel him apart and learn his secrets. “I’m sure we would all like to know why you are here.”

Lord Malygos huffed disdainfully before returning to the subject at hand, “I’ve come to inform you all about a force that threatens not only you but all of Azeroth. This would not normally be something that concerns the mortal races, but due to certain circumstances we must work together if any of us wish to survive.”

The Council of Six was silent as they processed Lord Malygos’ words; while they were skeptical, they had all seen his power firsthand and could not casually dismiss him. Even now the Aspect of Magic radiated more power than any of them had ever sensed in their life.

“What threat are you referring to?” Antonidas asked after a moment of silence. “Why does it threaten all of Azeroth, and why would someone as powerful as you need our aid?”

“Good questions, but I am not fond of repeating myself,” said Lord Malygos. “This matter needs to be known by the nerubians as well. We shall continue after I summon one of their representatives.”

Krasus could tell that the Archmages were surprised, and he couldn’t help but sympathize. He didn’t trust the nerubians anywhere near as much as he did his colleagues, especially when they were his prime suspects for who sent the anonymous letter. The only reason that Lord Malygos was insisting on their inclusion was that they needed as many powerful individuals as possible to help secure the Dragon Soul, and Azjol-Nerub was a very powerful nation.

It also helped that Lord Nozdormu had pushed for this course of action, and when the Master of Time decided to actually give advice about the future, it was wise to listen.

Before anyone could object, Lord Malygos casually waved his hand and Vizier Krivax appeared next to him in a flash of bright violet light.

Krasus was not an expert in nerubian body language, but the way that the Vizier was frantically looking around made it clear that he was utterly bewildered. Well, that and the first thing that came out of his mouth…

“What the hell?!”

Chapter Text

Krivax found himself feeling a bit… out of place as he listened to Malygos explain who Deathwing was to the Council of Six.

This wasn’t his first time meeting with important people, but it did feel strange to be literally magically summoned into a meeting by the Aspect of Magic himself. Warcraft lore was ambiguous enough that judging the exact strength of its characters was fairly difficult, but it was undeniable that the Aspects were among the most powerful entities in Azeroth. When it came to arcane magic specifically, there was probably nobody who could be considered more knowledgeable than Malygos aside from the Titans themselves.

Krivax could tell that aside from Krasus, the Council of Six truly had no idea who they were currently talking to. They would not be nearly so calm otherwise, given that Malygos had likely forgotten more magic than the members of the Council would ever know.

Krivax really hoped that Malygos wasn’t going to go crazy—or crazier, that is—and declare war on Azeroth’s mortal magic users. He already had one crazy dragon to deal with, and he really couldn’t handle the stress of dealing with another.

Glancing discreetly at Archmage Kel’thuzad and Prince Kael’thas, Krivax couldn’t help but note that he was currently standing in the same room as more than a few potential future villains.

One problem at a time…

Krivax turned his attention back to Malygos’ ongoing explanation. Although the majority of the information being shared was accurate, Krivax could tell that Malygos was withholding a few of the more sensitive details. Specifically, he was not telling the Council of Six anything about the fact that the Aspects had been empowered by the Titans; instead, he basically described them as simply the leaders of their respective Dragonflights.

The Titans were some of the most powerful entities in Warcraft lore and were strong enough to easily destroy entire worlds.

It made sense to Krivax that the Aspects weren’t exactly eager to freely share that kind of information, especially when they didn’t need to. Even without taking their special Titan-gifted superpowers into account, the Aspects were still far beyond the Council’s ability to handle.

The Council of Six quickly started to grow skeptical as Malygos continued to describe exactly how out of their league Deathwing was.

“I don’t mean to offend, but you must realize that this is all very difficult to believe,” Archmage Modera said doubtfully. Krivax had a feeling that if Malygos wasn’t obviously capable of killing her without much effort, her response would be much less polite. “Are you truly telling us that you’re some kind of… ancient dragon that has been alive since before the Sundering?”

Malygos scoffed and sneered at the Archmage before responding, “No. The event that you refer to as the Sundering is still a relatively recent event from my perspective. What I’m telling you is that I am an ancient dragon that has been alive since before the deformed offsprings of the Vrykuls began referring to themselves as ‘humans,’ since before a tribe of adventurous trolls became suffused with arcane energies and began referring to themselves as ‘kal’dorei,’ since before the Azj’Aqir Empire was shattered and some of its remnants began referring to themselves as ‘nerubians.’ That is how old I am, mortal.”

The Chamber of Air was dead-silent for several moments before the quiet was suddenly broken by the outraged voice of Prince Kael’thas, “You dare to compare my people to trolls of all things?! I’ve never heard a more ridiculous claim in my life!”

“Hmph. You elves never change,” Malygos said disdainfully. “You never enjoy being reminded that you’re no different from the rest of the mortal races. Like a hive of slightly larger ants that can’t help but feel proud of their insignificant superiority.”

Kael’thas had always been rather calm and laid back whenever Krivax saw him, so it was rather interesting to watch the prince’s face grow red with anger.

Thankfully, Archmage Kel’thuzad was smart enough to interject before the prince could start shouting at the ancient dragon who could probably kill them all easily.

“You’ve made many wild claims, but they are rather difficult for us to authenticate,” Kel’thuzad said calmly. “If you wish for us to believe your words, then it would be quickest if you simply showed us your true form. We have no real way to verify whether or not Lord Prestor is a dragon as you claim, just as we cannot verify the ancient origins of the elves or humanity or corroborate anything you’ve said.”

“I don’t see why you can’t when there’s a little nerubian standing in this very room,” said Malygos, gesturing carelessly at Krivax. “As one of the three kingdoms founded by the remnants of the Aqir, Azjol-Nerub is one of the oldest mortal civilizations on Azeroth. The nerubians should have an adequate understanding of the history of your races.”

Krivax froze in fright as every eye in the Chamber of Air suddenly turned to him.

“Vizier Krivax, is there anything that you can do to corroborate the claims made by this… individual about the history of our peoples?” asked Antonidas, speaking for the entire Council.

“Uh… well,” Krivax said eloquently. “From the historical records that I’ve read, the elves first appeared during the early portion of Azjol-Nerub’s history. Before that, it was just us and the trolls. I can confirm that humans descend from the vrykul. Our records of those times are quite extensive.”

After a moment of stunned silence, it was Ansirem that decided to question Krivax, “If you were aware of such a fascinating part of our ancient history, then why didn’t you share it until now?”

Because I forgot…

He’d always intended to bring it up at some point, but Krivax had always had more important things to worry about, “Well… I was forbidden to do so at first due to concerns that you humans might attempt to wake the vrykul from their slumber. After additional defenses were created, the ongoing war has made it so that I’ve been preoccupied with my role as a diplomat. It always seemed like there were more important things to worry about.”

Krivax held back a wince as his words were met with various incredulous looks from the whole Council. Even if there wouldn’t be much immediate practical benefit to knowing more about the ancient history of their races, mages in general were highly interested in learning more about the world.

Krivax could tell from the looks that he was getting that the Archmages would already be bombarding him with questions if not for the dragon in the room.

“Vizier Krivax’s corroboration does add some legitimacy to your claims, but I still believe we need more,” Archmage Kel’thuzad said with much more politeness than he had before. Mages respected knowledge almost as much as they respected power. “If you are truly a dragon as you claim, then any doubt would be dispelled if you, as said earlier, showed us your true form.”

Malygos studied the Council with an assessing gaze for several seconds before letting an aggrieved sigh, “Very well, but once this is done, we will return to the matter at hand. I did not come to this city so that I could waste my time listening to mortals learn about historical events that they’ll once again forget within a few millennia.”

Then why did you bring it up in the first place?! Krivax couldn’t help but wonder with annoyance.

However, any thoughts that he might have had were lost as Krivax was suddenly confronted with the most amazing sight that he had ever seen in either one of his lives.

One of the things that Warcraft games were unable to properly express was the lore-accurate sizes of its characters. It was one thing to know that the Aspects were larger than most dragons, it was another thing entirely to be suddenly staring up at an eighty-foot-tall apex predator that radiated incomprehensible amounts of magic.

If it weren’t for the fact that the Chamber of Air lacked any visible walls and was enchanted to have an artificial sky, there would be no chance that the Aspect of Magic would be able to fit inside without drastic magical expansions.

Malygos’ true form looked down at the dumbstruck leaders of Dalaran with a smug arrogance that Krivax found difficult to fault him for. His entire body was covered with thick azure scales that shimmered with arcane energy, and his eyes glimmered with an ancient intelligence that made Krivax feel smaller than he already did.

Ever since he had woken up in Azeroth, Krivax had seen all kinds of grand and awe-inspiring beings, but nothing had ever made him feel as utterly insignificant as Malygos. The Aspect of Magic was so massive that Krivax had no doubt that the dragon could kill a Spiderlord simply by stepping on it. Even if he could ignore the Aspect’s ludicrous size, no mage could ever hope to ignore the magical pressure they’d feel as soon as they entered Malygos’ presence.

“Hmph. I can see that you are all beginning to understand,” said Malygos, his voice thundering throughout the Chamber. “Look upon me mortals, and realize how little chance your people would have of surviving Deathwing’s wrath should we fail to stop him. Without the aid of me and my siblings, he would sweep you all aside with little effort and there is nothing that any of you could do to stop him. The only reason that he has not done so yet is because he still fears the combined might of me and my fellow Aspects should he act too openly.”

Krivax could not even begin to imagine how anyone could hope to fight something like Malygos and to make it even worse, he knew that this wasn’t even the Aspect’s full power! A large portion of his strength was still sealed away in the Dragon Soul and would only be returned after it was destroyed.

Krivax tore his gaze away from the Aspect of Magic and turned to look at the reactions of the Council of Six.

Every single one of them, except Krasus, was staring up at Malygos with wide eyes and open mouths that looked out of place on the normally composed Archmages. He was used to seeing Antonidas generally looking at everything with an aloof arrogance, and to seeing Kel’thuzad study the world with cold arrogance, but not even they were able to remain unaffected.

Malygos allowed this to continue for several more moments before he suddenly snorted and seamlessly returned to his mortal form.

“Now that you all have some understanding of what you are dealing with, we can begin discussing the role that you mortals will play in our confrontation with Deathwing, yes?” Malygos said into the dead silent Chamber. When the Council failed to respond, he simply nodded and continued as if such a response was to be expected. “Good. Then, let us begin.”

The Council members glanced at each other with unexpected hesitance before they seemed to decide that their official leader, Antonidas, should be the one to speak for them. “If Lord Prestor is a being like yourself, then why do he and his Dragonflight wish to destroy Azeroth? What is their motivation?”

Oh… this might be bad.

“Simple. Both he and his Dragonflight have been driven insane by the Old Gods,” said Malygos. “The Old Gods are eldritch and malevolent beings that use the Void, what you refer to as Shadow magic, to corrupt sapient beings to further their goal of transforming Azeroth in a world of nightmarish death and despair.”

That earned more than a few shocked and worried looks.

“It would make sense if Lord Prestor, this Deathwing, is some manner of Shadow cultist,” Kel’thuzad said thoughtfully. “Shadow magic has been noted to be particularly effective at manipulating minds and thus would be the perfect tool in controlling the thoughts of others without them questioning it. Though I do wonder why we are not familiar with these so-called ‘Old Gods’ if they are using Shadow magic to drive people to insanity.”

“The Old Gods were sealed away by the Titans in prisons in various locations throughout Azeroth, none of which are on this continent. The nearer one draws to these prisons, the more corruptive the Void becomes,” said Malygos, before turning his gaze to Krivax. “Given that one of these prisons is located in Northrend, I would expect that Azjol-Nerub would know more about the Void than the mortals on this continent.”

For the second time during the conversation, every eye in the Chamber turned to the only nerubian in the room, and Krivax struggled not to fidget as Malygos pinned him down with his gaze.

Shit…

Krivax was suddenly extremely glad that none of the Archmages were able to properly read his expressions or body language.

Before anyone could ask him any uncomfortable questions, Krivax decided to speak first, “I’ve never heard about the Void myself, but there’s a chance that such information is kept secret by Azjol-Nerub’s leaders. I’ll be sure to consult with my superiors as soon as this meeting is over. However, I’m very concerned to hear about the prison on Northend, could you please tell me more about that, Lord Malygos?”

It would have been completely unrealistic for Krivax to completely deny that Azjol-Nerub knew anything about the Void at this point, but as a member of the Order, he couldn’t exactly tell them the truth without permission. It was better to keep his response as ambiguous as possible and go get help from Hadix as soon as he could.

The current situation had the potential to quickly become a disaster if the Council of Six decided to approach the rest of the delegation with their questions. Krivax wasn’t looking forward to being labeled a traitor to Azjol-Nerub if the High King discovered the Order before they decided to reveal themselves. As far as he was concerned, the Order had officially reached the point where they no longer had a choice in the matter.

“A member of my Dragonflight will be sent to this city in order to facilitate communication. You can ask him your questions later,” Malygos said dismissively. Krivax relaxed once it became clear that nobody would be calling him out on his lies. “For now, let's discuss how you mortals can actually aid us in Deathwing’s destruction.”

With a wave of his hand, Malygos summoned an illusionary image of a featureless golden disk in the center of the Chamber.

“This is an ancient artifact of great power known as the Dragon Soul,” said Malygos, his voice shaking slightly and losing some of its detached arrogance. Krivax couldn’t help but note that the dragon wasn’t looking at the conjured image at all. “Shortly before his betrayal, Deathwing created it himself as a weapon that could be used against his fellow dragons. As long as it remains in his possession, the Dragonflights lack the ability to confront him directly.”

Krivax noted that Malygos failed to mention that the Dragon Soul could actually take control of dragons, and was not just a weapon. He had no doubt that the Dragonflights were concerned about what the mortal races might do if they learned the truth of the matter. The only reason that Malygos had even shared as much as he had was probably only due to necessity.

“And that’s why you’ve come to us,” Prince Kael’thas said shrewdly. “If dragons are unable to approach this artifact safely, then it needs to be retrieved by us.”

“Where is this artifact currently? How well-guarded is it?” asked Kel’thuzad.

“We do not yet know,” Malygos said with annoyance. “We have reason to believe that It was most recently being held at Grim Batol by an orcish chieftain by the name of Zuluhed, but we’ve already managed to confirm that it is no longer in the possession of him or his clan.”

“The Horde? Why would Prestor give it to them?” Archmage Modera asked suspiciously. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to either keep this artifact close or place it in the care of his family?”

“Due to the nature of its magic, it is fundamentally impossible for the Dragon Soul to be used directly by dragons. The Horde themselves are little more than a weapon that is being used against Azeroth.”

Krivax could tell that the Council didn’t like hearing that the existential threat they were currently waging war against was merely a tool. For a group of Archmages who had always believed that they stood at the top of the world, it must sting for them to realize how wrong they were.

“If you wish for our aid and you truly do not know how well-guarded the Dragon Soul is, then perhaps there’s something that you can do to tip the scales in our favor?” Kel’thuzad said with greed in his eyes. “I’m certain that a being who refers to himself as the ‘Aspect of Magic’ must be in possession of a great deal of magical knowledge and artifacts.”

Krivax was almost impressed by Kel’thuzad’s audacity, but he was mostly just terrified as the magical pressure in the room suddenly doubled and Malygos’ expression twisted into one of derision.

“So like mortals to scramble desperately for power even while the safety of the world they live in is at stake. Are you under the impression that you are our only option?” said Malygos, a hint of madness flashing in his eyes. “If there is one thing that I’ve learned since the Sundering, it’s that greedy mortal mages should be dealt with quickly before their lust for power causes irreparable consequences. Perhaps I should do so now, and take my chances with soliciting aid from the mortals of Kalimdor. I’d rather avoid dealing with the troublesome demi-god that watches over them, but it might just be worth the inconvenience.”

As someone who knew Malygos’ potential future, Krivax couldn’t stop himself from freaking out because he knew with certainty that the Aspect was genuinely considering killing them all.

Fortunately, Krasus must have realized the same thing because his expression instantly changed to one of panic, “Lord Malygos, I’m certain that my colleague meant no disrespect with his very thoughtless words. He simply believes that a matter this important cannot be left to chance and that we have a moral responsibility to seek every advantage possible.”

“Archmage Krasus is correct,” Kel’thuzad said quickly, realizing that he had stepped over a line and pissed off a three-hundred-foot-tall dragon wizard. “I merely seek to do what is best for Azeroth, I apologize if my words have offended you.”

Arcane energy crackled throughout the Chamber of Air as Malygos silently glared at them. After a few moments, the Aspect glanced at Krasus and seemed to force himself to calm down.

Krivax wasn’t the only one in the room who let out a sigh of relief.

I think my life just flashed before my eyes…

“How noble of you,” Malygos said while sneering at Kel’thuzad. “I suppose your argument is not without merit, despite your… dubious motivations. There may be some artifacts or spellbooks in the Nexus Vault that we could afford to bestow upon you, especially those that focus on combating the Void. You can discuss the matter with my representative, Kalecgos, once he arrives in the city.”

“Thank you, Lord Malygos,” Krasus said politely. “The Council of Six is of course willing to aid you in the protection of Azeroth, regardless of what artifacts you might choose to provide us.”

The rest of the Council didn’t hesitate to express their agreement and move to change the subject; nobody wanted to risk angering the unstable Aspect any further.

The next thirty minutes were devoted to discussing the details of how they intended to retrieve the Dragon Soul. Given the importance of the matter, it was quickly agreed on by the Council of Six that every one of its members would need to be prepared to participate in securing the Dragon Soul. The only matter of contention was on deciding which members of the Kirin Tor that would be joining the retrieval team.

Malygos simply watched the proceedings with a bored expression on his face. Privately, Krivax wondered how Krasus would manage to avoid participating in the attack given that he couldn’t afford to risk getting near the Dragon Soul.

“Then it’s settled,” Antonidas said once they reached a decision. “Aside from the members of this Council, the Kirin Tor will also provide the aid of Archmages Arugal, Drenden, and Karlain.”

“I can commit Archmage Rommath to this endeavor as well,” Prince Kael’thas said confidently. “Unfortunately, I’m not quite certain how much aid I’ll be able to secure from Quel’thalas, but I will make every effort that I can. As much as we might disagree politically, Grand Magister Belo’vir is a formidable combatant and would be a valuable ally.”

Krivax could feel his optimism grow as it became clear that the Council was taking this extremely seriously and had no intention of holding anything back.

“Vizier Krivax, what forces will Azjol-Nerub be able to contribute to this undertaking?” asked Antonidas.

“This is something that I’ll need to discuss with superiors, but I’m certain that both Vizier Hadix and Anub’rekhan will be available to help secure the Dragon Soul,” said Krivax. He was very glad that he had already talked with Hadix a bit about how they should confront Prestor before Malygos decided to kidnap him. “I will provide the full list as soon as I am able.”

A flash of dissatisfaction crossed Malygos’ expression at that answer, but he didn’t seem interested in pressing the issue.

“Very well. If that is all, then I shall take my leave,” Malygos said as he opened a portal by his side. “Do not delay on this matter for very long, mortals. Our attack on Deathwing will commence the moment that we discover the location of the Dragon Soul. And I suspect that we will succeed in doing so quicker than you might expect.”

With that said, Malygos didn’t hesitate to walk through the portal without looking back, causing everyone in the Chamber to relax as his oppressive presence left with him.

Out of all the meetings that I’ve been in over the past few years… this one was by far the most stressful.

Just as Krivax was busy wishing that he could go back to negotiating with tuskarr for shellfish instead of nearly being killed by Godzilla-sized dragon wizards, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the voice of Prince Kael’thas.

“Vizier Krivax, we did not have the opportunity to further explore the matter earlier, but there are some questions I would like to ask about the ancient history of our races and Azjol-Nerub’s knowledge of Shadow magic.”

Krivax let out a sigh as he once again became the Council’s center of attention.

After fielding questions from the Council of Six for longer than he would have liked, Krivax finally managed to convince them to table the discussion for later.

Once he stumbled tiredly into Dalaran’s nerubian enclave, Krivax was immediately confronted with an extremely worried Masruk. Krivax quickly learned that Malygos’ casual kidnapping had not done anything to ease the warrior's worries. Eventually, he managed to appease his friend’s worries enough that Krivax was able to convince Masruk to let him speak with Hadix alone.

As much as he would rather curl up in a silk cocoon, Vizier Hadix needed to be immediately informed about the events of the Council meeting.

“Vizier Hadix, I’ve returned from a meeting with the Council of Six,” Krivax called out as he began opening the door to Hadix’s sleeping chambers. “There’s a lot that I need to… ah fuck.”

Sitting next to Hadix in a seat made completely of arcane energy was a blue-haired elf who Krivax had sincerely hoped he would never see again.

Malygos casually lifted a single eyebrow at the unexpected swearing, “Mortals are not usually bold enough to be so open about how much they dread my presence.” The Aspect of Magic turned to Hadix, who was currently staring at Krivax with a long-suffering expression. “Your apprentice is either quite brave or quite foolish.”

“If you ever discover which, please feel free to inform me,” Hadix drawled from his silk hammock, obviously already tired of the current situation.

“Lord Malygos! I apolo—”

“Stop speaking,” said Malygos, interrupting Krivax. “I’ve listened to enough mortal simpering for one day, and have no interest in listening to more. I am here because I have questions that you will answer truthfully. Questions that you responded to with lies when I asked you a few hours ago. If your answers are not truthful, then your paltry mental shields will not prevent me from ripping through your minds and finding the answers myself, do you understand?”

Krivax felt his heart drop in dread as he glanced between the tired expression of Hadix and the grim one of Malygos.

“Yes, Lord Malygos,” said Krivax. He had no doubt that the Aspect of Magic would follow through on his threat if he said anything else.

“Good,” said Malygos, leaning back in his seat. “During our meeting with the mages, you claimed not to know anything about the Void. Unlike the mortals, I am proficient in reading the expressions of the Aqir and their descendant races, so it was exceedingly obvious to me that you were lying. Not only that, but I can sense the foul touch of Void lingering on this mage. You will explain everything that you and your kingdom know about the Void, or you will suffer the consequences.”

Krivax glanced at Hadix, but his mentor just looked back at him with a neutral expression. Seeing no way out of it, Krivax began telling Malygos everything about the Order of Kal’tut, its history, and its relationship with the rest of Azjol-Nerub’s government.

Once he was done speaking, Krivax began to shuffle nervously as Malygos quietly absorbed the information with an expression that was completely blank.

Suddenly, Krivax began to hear faint chuckles, and he couldn’t help but feel astounded when he realized that they were coming from the Aspect of Magic himself. His shoulders began to shake, and those chuckles slowly twisted into an unrestrained laugh that sent shudders through Krivax’s body.

“Oh, Neltharion! You truly are the most pathetic being to ever befoul this world! You were chosen by the Titans themselves, yet you failed to resist the Void when a race of mortal bugs born of their own blood managed to escape their grasp!” said Malygos, continuing to laugh the entire time. “Would the rest of my family still be alive, I wonder, if you had possessed even half the fortitude of these mortals?”

Krivax took a step back as Malygos continued to devolve into a fit of laughter, curses, and eventually tears. Krivax glanced at Hadix only to see that the older Vizier was also extremely uncomfortable with watching the crazy dragon have a mental breakdown.

How is it after everything I’ve experienced up until this point, it is this moment that I’ve felt the most scared?

After a period of time that was far longer than Krivax would have wished, Malygos finally began to calm down and turned his attention to Hadix, “You are the one who survived one of my fallen brother’s traps, correct?”

“Yes, I am,” said Hadix after a second of hesitation.

“I expect you to participate in the retrieval of the Dragon Soul,” said Malygos, still madly chuckling to himself quietly. “Tell your organization that they will contribute their strongest mages to this endeavor. I do not care about your ruler’s suspicions. I do not care at all about mortal politics. If Azjol-Nerub does not contribute to its fullest, then your kingdom will be forced to face either Deathwing’s wrath or my own.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Malygos instantly disappeared into nothingness, like a badly cut frame in a movie rather than the traditional flash of light that Krivax had begun to expect from teleportation.

The two nerubians were silent as they processed their emotions and thoughts over what they just experienced.

Eventually, it was Hadix that spoke up first.

“It would seem the Order’s secrecy is at an end, and most of its leadership and I will need to come clean to the High King as soon as possible and tell him everything,” Hadix said in a tone of voice Krivax had never heard before from his mentor… honest fear.

“What do you think he’ll do once he hears everything?” Krivax asked with concern.

“Whatever he could do… it would vastly pale in comparison to what that madman could do instead.”

Chapter Text

Anub’rekhan watched in fascination as the charging line of orcs collapsed under a volley of gunfire. Their bodies were quickly trampled over by the orcs that followed behind them as the Horde launched their latest attack against the Alliance forces in Hillsbrad Foothills. This battle, however, was already anticipated to be the largest land battle of the war so far.

Anub’rekhan had already realized from the first time he heard of them that these ‘guns’ would be potent tools of war, but it was still something different to see them personally.

From what he could tell, their power was not meaningfully different from an enchanted crossbow, but their ability to be produced in large numbers made them a formidable force multiplier.

Anub’rekhan began to muse on the feasibility of integrating these weapons into Azjol-Nerub’s military.

It would ultimately be the responsibility of the Circle of Viziers to design a gun fit for nerubians and the Weavers to handle the manufacturing. Still, it would be his assessments that the High King would use to determine how much of a priority constructing these weapons would be, and if their effectiveness against the Horde was any indication, Anub’rekhan felt like it should be a fairly high priority. They were doing much to help the Alliance compensate for the Horde’s superior numbers and greater physical abilities compared to the humans.

Though will it be enough?

Despite the consistent volleys of incoming gunfire, the Horde’s warriors remained undeterred. Even as a large number of the orcs were killed, many of them simply ignored the projectiles tearing through their bodies and continued their reckless charge forward.

“Damned monsters. The humans are filling them with holes, and the beasts are just ignoring them!”

Anub’rekhan glanced down at the agitated figure of Trixie Tinkwrench as she used her gnomish goggles to observe the ongoing battle from afar.

After learning that Anub’rekhan and a team of elite nerubians intended to capture a Death Knight during the next skirmish, Trixie had immediately offered to assist. Anub’rekhan had not seen any particular reason to refuse the gnome given that she seemed competent enough to not jeopardize their efforts.

Currently, they were waiting for the Death Knights to enter the field while hiding away in an area that had been warded by the Kirin Tor against casual observation. After all, this would be Anub’rekhan’s first time joining the battlefield against the Horde, and he very much wanted to surprise them.

“Their ability to ignore pain and injury is commendable, although their reckless tactics are worthy of disdain,” said Anub’rekhan, turning his gaze back to the battlefield. The human gunmen were beginning to fall back as the Alliance replaced a line of guns for a wall of shields and spears.

“Why do they keep trying to attack head-on? I get that the orcs aren’t the smartest, but they aren’t stupid either,” said Trixie, her expression one of confusion

“According to the intelligence gathered by Alliance, these creatures consider such tactics to be ‘honorable,’” said Anub’rekhan, not bothering to hold back a scoff. “A concept that their current leader seems to value highly.”

“Honor?! How could the orcs ever consider themselves to be honorable?!” Trixie spat out in outrage. “Where is the honor in genocide?! Damned hypocritical bast—.”

Anub’rekhan tuned out the gnome as she began letting out a stream of curses against the Horde. Personally, he considered the concept of honor to be a useless one, even if he agreed with Trixie’s contempt for the Horde’s hypocrisy.

The only thing that nerubians had that even vaguely resembled the concept of honor was their devotion to the defense of Azjol-Nerub.

Anub’rekhan knew that when pushed to the point of desperation, sapient beings wouldn’t hesitate to cross any line and throw their honor away, much like the Horde had. Since that was the case, why even bother worrying about honor in the first place?

“Be glad that the Horde is foolish enough to limit themselves,” said Anub’rekhan once Trixie finished. “Not only are the orcs much stronger than the humans, but they are also more numerous. The Alliance must exploit every advantage that they can find.”

Trixie continued to grumble but didn’t bother to argue. The Horde’s long charge was finally about to collide with the Alliance shield wall and neither of them wanted to be distracted.

Had they actually managed to freely impact, the orc’s natural strength would have given them a good chance of breaking the human lines. Unfortunately for them, it was hard to breach a shield wall when you were being ambushed from below by a swarm of arachnathids.

Anub’rekhan felt satisfaction flow through him as the orcs’ charge was broken by the unexpected attack. Arachnathids began emerging from the ground in large numbers and threw themselves at the Horde without the slightest bit of hesitation, tearing at them with their massive claws and injecting them with lethal venom. The Horde was eventually able to recover, but whoever was controlling the arachnathids simply ordered them to fall back.

After a moment, the Alliance army began pushing forward spear-first in an attempt to take advantage of the Horde’s broken momentum. Any orc that approached was quickly impaled on the humans' spears, and any weak points in the human formation were swiftly reinforced by highly mobile arachnathids. Mages from the Kirin Tor created localized firestorms throughout the Horde ranks whenever they could, and the few elvish archers that fought with the Alliance killed orcs with pinpoint accuracy.

The superior armaments and tactics of the humans allowed them to fare much better against the Horde than they would have otherwise, but Anub’rekhan knew this state of affairs would not last for long.

“Looks like the Horde finally got tired of the Alliance tearing them apart,” Trixie said with grim satisfaction. “They’re finally sending in their ogres.”

Anub’rekhan turned his gaze to the back of the Horde forces and saw that Trixie was correct. Pushing their way through orcs without any care were two dozen ogres, each wielding massive wooden clubs and crudely made shields. Anub’rekhan did not find the creatures particularly intimidating given that they were still much smaller than him, while also being incredibly unintelligent.

Several of the humans opened fire on the ogres with their guns, but the creatures had even less reaction to the bullets than the orcs.

“The Alliance needs to increase the power of their firearms,” said Trixie, frowning as she closely observed the ogres with her goggles. “Even if the orcs were crazy enough to ignore the pain of being shot, the guns were still doing a lot of damage to them, but these damned ogres barely seem to care at all. The bullets are punching through their armor, but it's slowing them down enough for their thick muscle and fat to protect their vital organs.”

“It would be better if the mages focused their efforts on the creatures, preferably with fire,” said Anub’rekhan, his tone thoughtful. “Muscle and fat will melt all the same, even when it is thick. I wonder if the ability of these creatures to ignore pain extends to being cooked alive.”

Anub’rekhan noticed Trixie turning to look at him strangely, but he ignored her and continued to watch the battle. Despite the Horde’s underwhelming performance in terms of tactics, Anub’rekhan found himself slightly concerned about the natural abilities of the orcs and the ogres.

As if to punctuate that thought, one of the ogres viciously swept its club through the human shield wall. Several soldiers were turned into a gory mess as the ogre’s immense strength smashed through their armor, instantly killing them and creating an opening for the orcs to exploit.

Several arachnathids leaped forward and began crawling up the ogre’s body, but their claws and stingers had difficulty harming the creatures significantly.

If Azjol-Nerub goes to war with the Horde, our forces will need to be instructed to aim for the ogre’s vital spots, Anub’rekhan mused to himself. The arachnathids would be much more effective if they aimed their stingers at the ogre’s vulnerable parts, such as the eyes or the groin.

It was likely that whoever was controlling the arachnathids was smart enough to reach a similar conclusion, but they simply didn’t have the ability to control the arachnathids so minutely.

“This is bad, the ogres are going to completely destroy the Alliance formation!” Trixie cried out in worry before turning to Anub’rekhan. “I know we’re supposed to be waiting for the Death Knights, but a lot of people are going to die to those monsters. Shouldn’t we help them out?”

“Unnecessary. The Alliance is more than capable of responding to this,” said Anub’rekhan, pointing toward one ogre in particular. “Observe.”

Just as it was beginning to look like the Alliance line was about to collapse, a long figure glowing with the Light stepped forward. Anub’rekhan could instantly see the effect that Uther’s presence had on the human soldiers as their morale was bolstered and they began zealously fighting off the Horde.

The ogre bellowed at the challenge and attempted to bring its club down on Uther’s head, but the paladin neatly dodged to the side and swung his hammer into the ogre’s knee. The creature immediately fell with a cry of pain as its knee was obliterated by Uther’s Light-empowered strength before its skull was swiftly caved in by the paladin with a single blow.

Anub’rekhan felt a wave of satisfaction flow through him at the display. He looked forward to testing the Light’s ability to augment his own abilities, as it did for the paladin.

Trixie let out an appreciative whistle, “Those paladins are a lot stronger than I expected. Still, I don’t think they’ll be able to handle all of the ogres before the human lines collapse. There are a lot of the beasts left.”

Before Anub’rekahn was able to respond the entire battlefield seemed to stumble as the ground began to shake and the ground beneath one of the ogres seemed to fall in on itself. Anub’rekhan chuckled as he heard the tell-tale screech of a jormungar before the beast revealed itself by slowly emerging from the earth and spitting out the lower half of the ogre that was unlucky enough to become its first victim.

The Horde had proven themselves to be brave and reckless warriors, but even they couldn’t help but waver as the jormungar began rampaging through the battlefield, devouring orcs whole and crushing many beneath its massive weight. Before the Horde could organize an effective defense, the giant worm quickly burrowed itself back underground.

Anub’rekhan had been surprised when he learned that the Alliance had successfully managed to produce someone capable of controlling the jormungar. It was a skill that typically took much time to learn, jormungar handlers being a specialized occupation, but he was glad that he was being given the opportunity to study the jormungar’s combat effectiveness against the Horde so soon.

He could already tell that Azjol-Nerub would learn much from this war.

“Well, that’s more than a little terrifying,” said Trixie, her eyes wide as the jormungar tore apart another ogre and threw the Horde ranks into chaos. “What are you even supposed to do against something like that? The thing just disappears back into the ground before anyone can do anything about it!”

“It’s likely that the Horde will be forced to deploy their Death Knights in response,” said Anub’rekhan. “They cannot afford to sustain such losses for much longer.”

The presence of the jormungar seemed to further invigorate the Alliance’s morale. Anub’rekhan had heard the human soldiers commenting about how glad they were to ‘have their own monsters to throw at the Horde’ on more than one occasion.

The Horde commander must have agreed with Anub’rekhan’s assessment of the situation because it wasn’t long before the moment that he had been waiting for finally arrived. Flying toward the battlefield was a sight that sent a ripple of dread through the Alliance forces.

“Finally,” Anub’rekhan said gleefully an undead dragon began to pass over the approach.

According to reports, one of the dragons had died a second death during the naval battle in Baradin Bay, so the Horde still only possessed two of the undead for the time being. One of which had been sighted recently far way, in the eastern portions of the Hillsbrad Foothills.

The Alliance’s mages did their best to mitigate the first pass of the dragons’ fiery breath with their magical barriers, but many human soldiers were still cooked within their armor as the undead beasts set the battlefield aflame. Several more Death Knights also suddenly appeared from the Horde ranks and began ruthlessly cutting down any human that got in their way before raising their corpses to fight their former allies. It didn’t take very long for the Knights of the Silver Hand to respond, and throw themselves at the Horde’s Death Knights.

Anub’rekhan tore his attention away from the scene and turned toward the elite nerubian warriors who would be joining him in his assault. Due to Azjol-Nerub’s many years of peace, there were very few nerubian warriors who actually experienced combat, but these few were the exceptions.

The Dread Stalkers were a group of highly trained warriors who served the High King directly and typically served to discreetly further his interests. The requirements to become such a warrior were incredibly strict, requiring both loyalty and a level of skill that was difficult to find.

There were a few occasions in which they had been sent to undermine Zul’drak when doing so became necessary, but they were more commonly deployed for… internal security purposes.

Nerubians were a people who tended toward unity, but only to a certain degree.

Each of the Dread Stalkers was equipped with some of the finest enchanted armaments that Azjol-Nerub could provide. Anub’rekhan looked forward to watching them cut a bloody swath through the Horde.

“We will attack as the Death Knights make their next pass over the Alliance,” said Anub’rekhan, assessing the ten warriors in front of him. “I will be primarily focused on subduing the Death Knight, you all will be responsible for slaying any Horde who draw near. Are your orders clear?”

The Dread Stalkers replied as one, “Yes, Spiderlord!”

Anub’rekhan nodded in satisfaction and turned to look down at Trixie, who was currently examining her wrench and shrink ray as she prepared for the battle ahead, “Are you certain that you wish to join us? We will be pushing straight into the heart of the Horde forces.”

“It’s a bit too late to turn back now, big guy,” said Trixie, her eyes filling with determination. “These monsters aren’t going to stop until they are forced to stop. My people won’t be saved until we push them back past Khaz Modan. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t do my part to make that happen.”

Anub’rekhan observed the pink-haired gnome for several moments and felt a level of admiration that surprised him. His superior power made it easy for Anub’rekhan to throw himself into danger, but he knew that Trixie lacked his natural advantages. Blows that would do little but bounce off his body would likely prove to be immediately lethal to the tiny warrior, yet he could not perceive the slightest bit of hesitation in her expression or in her heartbeat.

“Very well,” said Anub’rekhan, lowering his body to the ground and placing one of his hands in front of the gnome. “You will not be able to match my pace once I begin charging. It would be more convenient if you were to ride on my back until we reach our destination.”

Most Spiderlords would never even consider allowing something like this, but Anub’rekhan had always cared more for practicality than propriety.

Trixie’s expression shifted from surprise to eagerness as she quickly climbed onto his hand, “I’m not going to lie, big guy. I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I got over how freaking scary you spiderfolk look.”

“Then I’ll be sure not to disappoint,” said Anub’rekhan, lifting the gnome onto his back. Once she was there, he turned his attention back to the battlefield just in time to see the dragons about to make another pass against the Alliance lines.

“So, how’re we going to hit those flying abominations when they’re so high up?” asked Trixie.

“We’ll simply have to bring them down,” Anub’rekhan said calmly.

The Spiderlord immediately began expanding his innate telepathic sense throughout the battlefield. As soon as the dragons began drawing close, Anub’rekhan didn’t hesitate to order the flyers that were hidden among the Alliance forces to intercept them. The undead creature was soon beset by a large swarm of nerubian flyers, who swiftly began immobilizing them with webs.

The Death Knight riders tried to kill the flyers as quickly as they could, but there were simply too many of them and it wasn’t long before the dragons were crashing into the ground.

Trixie let out an impressed whistle, “Well, that’s one way to do it. How long’s that webbing going to last? They’ve fallen behind enemy lines so those flyers are probably going to be taken down pretty quickly.”

“Long enough,” said Anub’rekhan, already eyeing the path between him and his target. “We begin now. Do your best to survive, Trixie Tinkwrench.”

“Don’t worry about me, big guy,” Trixie said fearlessly. “Let's just hurry up and get going. We’ve already been staying back for too long, and I don’t want to give those bastards the chance to get back up into the air.”

Seeing no reason to delay, Anub’rekhan nodded and began charging down the hill where he and the Dread Stalkers were hiding, straight toward the Horde. They had chosen a position that allowed them an unobstructed path, and Anub’rekhan had every intention of using it to its full advantage.

It wasn’t long after he passed through the wards that were hiding his presence before the first orcs noticed his presence and attempted to organize a defense, but it was already far too late. Most of the surface races, in his experience, greatly underestimated the speed that Spiderlords could run.

Anub’rekhan plowed through orcs as if they barely even existed, crushing them under his massive weight and slicing them in half with his scythe-like arms. Any who survived his charge soon found themselves cut to pieces or impaled by the spears of the elite nerubians warriors that followed in his wake.

Anub’rekhan felt exhilarated as the entire Horde seemed to shudder at the scene of his bloody entrance to the battle. He could tell that Trixie was just as excited as he was from her thrilled shouts.

Is this what war feels like?

The Spiderlord and his elite warriors cut through the Horde with ease, making their way to the downed dragon all the while. A pair of ogres attempted to intercept them, but they didn’t last long as Anub’rekhan simply overpowered one before neatly decapitating it, while a particularly agile Dread Stalker buried his spear into the eye of the other with a leaping thrust.

Anub’rekhan barely registered Supreme Commander Lothar letting out a bellowing warcry meant to raise the Alliance’s morale and start a counterattack.

Just as he was finally about to reach his target, several orcs let out warcries of their own and leaped onto his back. He would normally demonstrate why this was a bad idea by simply rolling and crushing the creatures under his weight but obviously couldn’t do so without hurting Trixie as well.

“Die, monsters! For Gnomeregan!”

Even with his superior hearing, it would still normally be difficult to tell what was happening on his back, but the distinctive sounds of a gnomish shrink ray, confused orc grunts, and the crunch of shattered bone were enough for him to guess.

Still, Anub’rekhan knew that the orcs would not stop attempting to climb onto his back to take advantage of his lack of flexibility, and Trixie wouldn’t be able to hold them off forever.

Thankfully, the Queen who created the Spiderlords was smart enough to anticipate such difficulties. The moment that the next group of orcs attempted to jump onto him, Anub’rekhan unfolded the scarab-like carapaces on his back and directed the locusts that lived inside of him to emerge from the nesting area located near his wings.

Orc screams resounded through the battlefield as a swarm of locusts emerged from his body and began devouring any orc foolish enough to approach him. The creatures flailed about and attempted to protect themselves from the swarm, but they could do nothing as the locusts bit through their skin and crawled into every orifice that they could find.

Anub’rekhan heard Trixie curse out in surprise, but he chose to ignore her in favor of focusing on his target.

Despite having killed all the flyers that had brought him down from the sky, the Death Knight had already given up on freeing his thrashing undead mount in time and was instead holding a large sword with both hands and pointing it at Anub’rekhan.

“You are wise to abandon hopes of escape and instead prepare yourself for battle, as futile as your preparations will be,” said Anub’rekhan as he approached the Death Knight. Trixie quickly jumped down from his back and ran off to assist his Dread Stalkers in securing a perimeter. “If you wish to share your name, then I will hear it. I am Anub’rekhan.”

“My name is Ragnok Bloodreaver, creature,” the Death Knight said stoically as powerful waves of dark magic flowed off his body in the form of a black mist that killed any locust that got too near.

Without further comment, Anub’rekhan channeled the Light into his arm just as Archbishop Faol had taught him and lept at the Death Knight.

The creature proved to be quick on its feet as it avoided having its legs cut from under it by jumping away from Anub’rekhan’s glowing arms. The Death Knight swung at him with its sword, but only managed a glancing blow that failed to pierce his carapace.

However, Anub’rekhan had his first experience with the Horde’s magic once a strange darkness began spreading from the point of impact. It felt to Anub’rekhan as if his body was rotting wherever the magic of the Death Knight spread, and he instantly knew that the level of pain that he was feeling would be debilitating to most creatures.

It’s a shame Archbishop Faol did not have the time to teach me how to remove curses, Anub’rekhan mused as he ignored the pain and once again threw himself at the Death Knight. Still, it shouldn’t be hard to suppress it long enough for me to deal with this troubling little creature.

Unfortunately, Anub’rekhan had been ordered to capture the creature alive, and Ragnok Bloodreaver seemed intent on showing why the Alliance seemed to fear the Horde’s undead warriors so much.

Despite being fully armored, the creature consistently managed to deftly avoid Anub’rekhan’s attacks. The Spiderlord knew that the Death Knight was likely planning to leverage its inexhaustible stamina to outlast him, but he had no intention of allowing that to happen.

Anub’rekhan was a nerubian, and his people didn’t believe in fighting either fair or in fighting alone.

Ragnok Bloodreaver stumbled as the arachnathid burrowed under his feet emerged from the ground and buried its stringer in his necrotic flesh. The Death Knight quickly cut the arachnathid in two, but not fast enough that he was able to avoid a brilliant Light-infused blow that tore off his right arm and sent him flying through the air.

“Ur’gora!”

Anub’rekhan didn’t understand his enemy's words, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care, “Does your rotted flesh feel pain, Ragnok Bloodreaver? If so, it would be in your best interest to surrender.”

“Honorless beast!”

Likely knowing that he had no hope of achieving victory after being maimed, the Death Knight pointed his single remaining arm at Anub’rekhan and desperately released a concentrated stream of death magic. The Spiderlord grunted in pain as the magic began rotting and eating away at his carapace.

Focusing on his conviction and desire to serve Azjol-Nerub, Anub’rekahn channeled the Light and summoned a radiant shield between him and the Death Knight. Fortunately, Ragnok seemed to be unable to sustain his magical attack for very long.

“Are you done with your futile struggles?” asked Anub’rekhan, still glowing with the Light as he approached the collapsed Death Knight. “The difference in strength between you and I is simply too large to be overcome; the outcome of this battle was already decided from the moment that you crashed into the ground.”

Everything that Anub’rekhan said was the truth as he saw it. He had learned much from fighting the undead warrior, but he was one of the most powerful Spiderlords in Azjol-Nerub and simply far stronger than his opponent.

Ragnok Bloodreaver glared at him hatefully as he responded, “I’m not done yet, creature.”

Anub’rekhan was taken by surprise as a stream of dragon fire crashed into his left side.

Ah, I failed to notice that it had succeeded in struggling out of its webs. How careless of me…

The stream of fire was higher than he had expected, as in there was a chance that it might actually overcome his powerful defenses given enough time. Anub’rekhan had no intention of actually giving his enemy that time, however, and immediately charged through the fire at his highest speed.

The Spiderlord crashed horn-first into the undead dragon and used his immense strength to push it off balance. From there, it was a relatively straightforward process to pull the creature apart, starting with smashing apart its skull and then moving on to destroying its wings and rib cage. It was actually much quicker than dealing with the Death Knight because the dragon lacked the ability to avoid his blows.

Anub’rekhan only stopped once the bright red glow faded from the undead creature, signifying that it had died its second death.

The Spiderlord turned his gaze back to the Death Knight and saw it looking back at him with an expression filled with both shock and fear.

“Are you done now?”

It turned out that he wasn’t, but the Death Knight wasn’t able to adjust so quickly after losing an arm, so Anub’rekhan subdued him relatively easily.

Turning away from the limbless figure that continued to glare up at him with hate-filled eyes, Anub’rekhan began to assess the rest of the battlefield. He could tell that most of his Dread Stalkers remained uninjured, though one of them was fighting unevenly due to having a broken leg.

How careless. He shouldn’t have been injured while fighting the Horde’s common warriors.

Anub’rekhan was relieved to see that Trixie seemed to be uninjured, although he could tell that she was beginning to grow tired. He watched in curiosity as the gnome nimble ducked between the legs of an orc and used one of her inventions to shoot him with a beam of energy that… turned the orc into a chicken?

He had heard Trixie mention her so-called ‘Poultriyizer,’ but seeing it for himself was even more ridiculous than hearing about it.

The rest of the battle did not last for very long, mostly due to the collapse of the Horde’s morale after watching Anub’rekhan and his elite warriors tear through their army and defeat one of their most powerful warriors. The Horde lost many warriors in their retreat, but not as many as Anub’rekhan was hoping.

Supreme Commander Lothar refused to chase after them for very long, fearing that his forces would become overextended.

Despite losing the battle, the Horde still far outnumbered the Alliance, and more of them were crossing Baradin Bay every day.

“So this is one of the Horde’s Death Knights,” said Trixie as she approached Anub’rekhan and the limbless Ragnok. “I’ve got to admit, they live up to their reputation. Why’d you even want to capture one of these monsters alive…ish?”

“My kingdom has reached an agreement with Dalaran to study the Death Knights so that we might learn more of the Horde’s magic,” Anub’rekhan explained calmly, ignoring the flash of fear that he saw in Ragnok’s eyes. Not even the Light could compel him to feel sympathy for the creature after witnessing the Horde’s actions firsthand. “According to what I’ve been told, Archmage Kel’thuzad is quite excited to work alongside our Viziers to discover the Horde’s secrets.”

Trixie looked to be slightly disturbed by this information, but she seemed to shrug it off after a few moments, “Well, glad I’m not him I suppose.”

Something in the gnome’s tone caught Anub’rekhan’s attention and he turned to examine her expression, “I expected you to be more excited. The Alliance has achieved victory today, and the Horde is much less likely to succeed in conquering the Hillsbrad Foothills.”

“It’s a bit hard for me to be happy about this when the battlefield’s still littered with corpses, big guy,” said Trixie, her voice filled with sadness.

Anub’rekhan looked around and suddenly became aware of the many humans that were moaning in pain and mourning over their fallen allies. Before Trixie drew his attention to it, the sounds had been nothing more than idle noise to Anub’rekhan, but he now found it difficult to hear anything else. The battle itself had filled him with a feeling of exhilaration and fulfillment, but the aftermath was… decidedly less pleasant.

He couldn’t quite tell whether or not the feelings of sorrow that the sounds evoked were caused by the Light, or himself.

“Bring the Death Knight back to the Alliance camp,” Anub’rekhan said to the Dread Stalkers, hoping to distract himself by focusing on his duties. “Remember to retrieve all of his limbs, and bring the dragon bones as well. Vizier Crinis should be waiting to transport the materials to Dalaran.”

The walk back to the camp was devoid of conversation, as neither he nor Trixie was in the mood for it. Once they arrived, Trixie informed him that she intended to go elsewhere to clean herself of the orc blood caking her body, and the two of them went their separate ways.

Most of the humans were too busy with their own affairs to pay him or the Dread Stalkers any attention as they made their way to the portion of the camp set aside for the Kirin Tor. Anub’rekhan was glad to see that Vizier Crinis and the Kirin Tor had already opened a portal and were waiting for them.

“Finally,” said Vizier Crinis as soon as they were within speaking distance. “I’m glad to see your mission was successful, Spiderlord. The Circle of Viziers has been growing increasingly anxious to uncover the Horde’s secrets.”

Anub’rekhan acknowledged the Vizier with a nod and directed the Dread Stalkers to take the materials through the portal. There was no particular need for him to follow after them, as Vizier Crinis was more than capable of leading them to the Violet Hold. That was where the Circle of Viziers and the Kirin Tor intended to conduct most of their experimentations.

Once the last Dread Stalker was through the portal, Anub’rekhan began to turn away only to be surprised when he was unexpectedly stopped by Vizier Crinis, “Spiderlord Anub’rekhan, please wait for a moment, I believe that there’s something that you need to know.”

Anub’rekhan withheld an annoyed grunt at the Vizier’s continued refusal to refer to him without his title, “What is it, Vizier Crinis?”

“I think it may be in your best interests to return to Dalaran for the next few days,” Vizier Crinis said with uncharacteristic hesitation. “I’ve been informed by Vizier Hadix that he and his student will be traveling to Azjol-Nerub to meet with the High King.”

“What? For what reason?” Anub’rekhan asked in genuine surprise.

“I don’t know. Vizier Hadix refused to explain no matter how many times I asked,” said Vizier Crinis. “However, I’ve recently been hearing… strange rumors from my colleagues in En’kilah. Nobody I’ve talked to knows exactly what is happening, but there have been whispers that something considerable is going to happen soon.”

“Something considerable?” Anub’rekhan dubiously repeated. “How is it that your colleagues can know that something noteworthy is about to happen while not having any idea of what that something is?”

“Again, I don’t know. I’ve been told that many of the kingdom's powerful Viziers have begun acting strangely, but nobody has any idea why. That’s all I know about the subject.”

Anub’rekhan was tempted to dismiss the Vizier’s words, but the fact that Hadix was traveling to meet with the High King added a lot of credibility to the rumors. After all, the High King had explicitly ordered him to pay particular attention to Vizier Hadix.

The Vizier was a rather suspicious figure who had recently been inexplicably injured while investigating some kind of conspiracy that involved mind-manipulating magics. Now Hadix intended to meet with the High King and he was refusing to explain his reasons to anyone?

Anub’rekhan could tell that something big was going to come of this.

“Very well. I will return to Dalaran after a few days,” said Anub’rekhan after a moment of consideration. Although he wouldn’t be able to return to Azjol-Nerub without explicit orders from the High King, Anub’rekhan very much wanted to hear the news coming from the kingdom as quickly as he could. “There are just a few matters that I need to attend to before I do so.”

Vizier Crinis nodded her understanding and made her way through the portal.

As soon as she was gone, Anub’rekhan turned to head back into the camp, his mind fully absorbed in wondering what changes would soon be coming to his future.

Chapter Text

As Krivax began writing the transcript of the meeting between Malygos and the Council of Six, he couldn’t help but feel like things had completely gone off the rails.

Not only was Malygos forcing the Order of Kal’tut to reveal itself to the High King, which was mostly a good thing as far as he was concerned, but the crazy dragon had also been casually dropping world-changing information throughout the entire meeting. Krivax could already picture the room full of Viziers that would be frantically analyzing the transcript in front of him.

Malygos had all but confirmed to Azjol-Nerub that Kalimdor truly existed and that it was inhabited by ‘mortals’ who were at least powerful enough to be compared to Dalaran. That didn’t even begin to touch on the demigod comment that Malygos made, which was guaranteed to catch the attention of the Circle of Viziers.

There was also that reveal about elves being descended from trolls… I’m sure a lot of people are going to have a field day with that.

However, none of that could compare in terms of importance to the existence of the Dragon Aspects and the corruption of Deathwing. He had every expectation that the High King would react strongly once he was informed about the existential threat that was Deathwing… Krivax just wished that he didn’t need to be there when he heard about it.

According to what Hadix told him, the Order of Kal’tut had continued to remain reluctant to reveal itself to the High King, even after they had been told about Malygos’ ultimatum. They apparently had a difficult time believing that Malygos was truly as powerful as Krivax and Hadix had told them.

That lasted for all of a single day before Malygos somehow got wind of their reluctance and decided to show them the error of their ways. Krivax didn’t know how Malygos learned about the issue so quickly or what he did to convince them otherwise, but the Order of Kal’tut was now reluctantly onboard with abandoning their secrecy.

He probably used some kind of ridiculously overpowered divination magic, Krivax mused to himself. I would have loved to get the chance to watch Malygos scare the hell out of someone who wasn’t me. It’d probably make me feel a bit better about the whole thing.

After a decision had been made, the Order frantically started to plan the best way to present themselves to the High King in as sympathetic of a light as possible. Krivax could guess that a large part of that would be them doing everything they could to hide their more… controversial actions while simultaneously gathering evidence of the good that they had done for Azjol-Nerub over the millennia. In addition, they also wanted to prove to the High King that he would need them, which was why Krivax had been provided with an Elixir of Perfect Recall and told to write the transcript.

All of these preparations had taken several weeks, which was enough time for Hadix to get all his limbs back, much to Krivax’s relief.

Hadix assured him that High King was extremely unlikely to do anything dumb or drastic like having them all executed for treason. Anub’arak was widely considered to be a wise leader who rarely acted on emotion, so he would probably do what was best for Azjol-Nerub regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. Hadix predicted that Anub’arak would, at worst, force the Order to be dissolved and reformed as a formal organization under his command.

Still, there was no guarantee that everything was going to turn out all right. Rulers aren’t generally known for reacting well to learning that their subjects are ignoring their authority and keeping important secrets related to national security. A secret conspiracy as pervasive as the Order of Kal’tut, no matter how ‘benevolent’ they might be, could be considered to be a direct threat to the High King’s power.

“Vizier Hadix, why are we the ones who need to reveal the Order to the High King?” Krivax asked, not for the first time. “Shouldn’t something like this be handled by people who… aren’t us?”

“A member of the Order’s leadership will be in attendance as well, Krivax,” Hadix patiently responded, not bothering to look away from his spellweaving. “We have been ordered to join them because I am the one who was investigating Deathwing, and you are the one who has had the most contact with Malygos.”

Krivax dearly wished that those reasons were less compelling than they were.

“And you’re certain that the High King won’t decide to have us imprisoned, killed, or exiled?”

“Certainty does not exist. There’s every chance that the High King could suddenly take actions contrary to the way that he has ruled for the past millennia,” Hadix said solemnly. “However, it is exceedingly unlikely that he will actually do so.”

“Then why are you preparing such a complex long-distance teleportation spell for the meeting?”

Hadix glanced at him with a mildly impressed expression before responding, “I’m glad to see that you haven’t allowed your diplomatic duties to prevent you from continuing your learning.”

Krivax perked up at the praise. He’d been putting a lot of effort into his spatial magic recently, as being able to easily travel long distances would open up a lot of options for him.

“As for why I’m preparing the spell, I have not lived as long as I have by refusing to prepare for events simply because they are unlikely.”

Krivax didn’t have much to say about that, so he simply continued to write his transcript in silence.

Hadix must have been watching him carefully, because he decided to speak up as soon as Krivax finished writing the last word, “If you are done, then we should leave as soon as we can. It would not do to be late for a meeting as important as this one.”

“Understood, I’m ready to go,” said Krivax, quickly storing the transcript in his spatial bag.

Krivax followed behind his mentor as the two of them began making their way to the portal to En’kilah. Once there, it wouldn’t take long to reach another portal that would take them to the city of Azjol-Nerub where they would meet the High King.

At least there’s no way that this meeting will be as terrifying as my last one…

Anub’arak could sense the tension of the council chamber’s hidden guards as they waited for the arrival of his unexpected guests. Their caution was warranted given the circumstances.

When several of the kingdom's most powerful Viziers used their political influence to arrange a meeting with the High King while refusing to explain the meeting’s actual purpose, it was wise to be suspicious. When those Viziers requested that the meeting be held privately with the High King without his council, it was perhaps time to grow worried. If Anub’arak was not as certain as he could be that there had not been any preparations made for an attempted coup, he would have never agreed to the meeting in the first place.

If he had not received several reports over the past few weeks detailing the suspicious behavior of many Viziers who were suspected of being associated with the mysterious conspiracy manipulating the politics of his kingdom, Anub’arak may have still declined. What he needed the most was to gather more information, and the circumstances of this meeting promised just that, regardless of how suspicious it was.

That was why Anub’arak decided to call for his most loyal Dread Stalkers as well as several Obsidian Destroyers to protect both him and the only council member who he had refused to be sent away. Anub’arak glanced down at Elder Nadox and saw that the Vizier was still speaking quietly into his scrying crystal.

After a few minutes, Elder Nadox finished his conversation and turned his attention back to his Anub’arak, “Your Majesty, Vizier Hadix and Vizier Krivax have both passed through the portal from En’kilah to Azjol-Nerub and will arrive in approximately twenty minutes. The Dread Stalkers are following them both closely and have failed to notice anything suspicious. Elder Nox’tir of Naz’anak has already arrived and is waiting outside of the council chambers.”

“They are a strange group,” Anub’arak commented. “Have our investigations had any success in identifying a connection between our guests?”

“None aside from the obvious, Your Majesty,” said Elder Nadox, his tone regretful. “They’re all suspected of being involved in the conspiracy, but there is little connection to be found otherwise. Vizier Hadix has met with Elder Nox’tir on a few occasions while in Naz’anak, but there are only a few recorded incidents of them speaking over several centuries. Vizier Krivax has never met Elder Nox’tir, nor has he ever gone to Naz’anak, but that is unsurprising given his relative youth.”

Anub’arak could feel his disappointment grow at the answer. He was beginning to grow increasingly frustrated with the veil of secrecy that obscured these Viziers. Anub’arak momentarily considered dealing with them in a more… heavy-handed manner, but those thoughts disappeared as quickly as they came.

Elder Nox’tir was a close confidant of Underking Anub’esset and was one of the most politically influential Viziers in Naz’anak. Although Vizer Hadix lacked such political influence, he was a powerful enough mage that it would be unwise to confront him without gathering more information first. After mages reached a certain degree of power, accurately evaluating what they were truly capable of tended to become difficult.

Anub’arak would simply continue to remain patient and learn as much from this meeting as possible.

“Your Majesty, Vizier Hadix and Vizier Krivax have arrived at the ziggurat’s entrance,” said Elder Nadox, pulling Anub’arak from his thoughts. “The guards are confiscating their spatial bags and have begun searching them for enchanted items. Neither of them has shown any reluctance to the procedure.”

“Instruct the guards to escort them here once they are done,” said Anub’arak. “I see no reason to delay this meeting when doing so will accomplish nothing aside from increasing the tension of my guards.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Anub’arak noticed one of the Dread Stalkers on the ceiling shifting nervously after being directly referenced. The High King made a mental note to inspect the discipline of his guards later but quickly turned his attention to the council chamber’s entrance.

He didn’t have to wait for very long before his guests were escorted in.

Elder Nox’tir and Vizier Hadix were both wearing the typical inscrutable expressions that could be found on most experienced Viziers, but Vizier Krivax’s expression was much more open. Anub’arak was easily able to tell that the young Vizier was quite nervous, and perhaps even afraid, which was already enough to cause his curiosity to grow.

It made little sense to him that the Viziers would bring someone whose reactions were so readily apparent. Any lies that they told would be far more obvious with Vizier Krivax in attendance.

What are they planning?

Anub’arak allowed his confusion to show as a guard followed behind them while carrying a stack of documents.

“Our guests insisted on retrieving those documents from their spatial bags before they were confiscated,” Elder Nadox explained quietly. “They’ve already been inspected for potential curses, so I allowed the guards to bring them in.”

Anub’arak nodded to signal his approval. The documents implied that the Viziers before him intended to voluntarily share important information.

Not what I expected.

Seeing no point in continuing to speculate when the answers were right in front of him, Anub’arak decided to simply wait for the Viziers to begin speaking.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Your Majesty,” said Elder Nox’tir, taking the leading role in speaking for the group.

“You and your… colleagues made it quite difficult to refuse,” said Anub’arak with obvious censure in his voice. “I hope that this meeting is as important as you’ve implied. You would not like the consequences of wasting my time or requesting that I dismiss my council if this matter is a frivolous one.”

“We would not dare go to such lengths for anything but the most paramount of concerns, Your Majesty,” said Elder Nox’tir, in a tone of voice that was more deferential than Anub’arak would have liked. In his experience, people only acted overly servile when they knew that they were about to tell him something that he didn’t want to hear, so Anub’arak was already preparing for the worst. “I have come here to present to you news of multiple existential threats to the safety of Azjol-Nerub. I sincerely believe that a High King as wise and intelligent as yourself will understand why we took the measures that we did once you have been made fully aware of the situation.”

Anub’arak ignored the blatant flattery and shared a surprised glance with Elder Nadox. Neither of them had known what to expect from the Viziers, but they had both anticipated something much more aggressive from the conspirators.

“What existential threats do you speak of, and why have they not been brought to our attention before now?” Elder Nadox asked pointedly. “For what reason would a Vizier from Naz’anak know more about what threatens our kingdom than the High King, and why have you come with two Viziers whose duties have them on an entirely different continent?”

Anub’arak could see the tension among the three Viziers increase dramatically once faced with a direct question.

“Vizier Hadix and Vizier Krivax have both agreed to be here because they were both directly involved in several important events, and because they are both members of our organization,” said Elder Nox’tir. Anub’arak allowed none of his shock to show when the Vizier so brazenly admitted to the existence of their secret organization. “I’m confident that you’ve become aware of some of our actions in recent times, Your Majesty. The Order of Kal’tut would like to make clear that we are both loyal to you, and that we seek to do nothing but protect Azjol-Nerub as best we can as we have for millennia.”

Anub’arak remained silent once the Vizier finished speaking and took a moment to study the Viziers in front of him. Elder Nox’tir was doing his best to feign that he was calm, but Anub’arak had been dealing with politics for most of his life, and he could see the tension in his body. Vizier Hadix was also feigning calm, but Anub’arak could tell that the Vizier was tense and prepared to cast a spell at any moment.

Interestingly, Vizier Hadix seemed to be leaning slightly toward Vizier Krivax, likely intending to protect his student should anything go wrong.

Anub’arak couldn’t tell whether or not Vizier Krivax was actually attempting to hide his expressions, but the young Vizier was clearly extremely nervous.

The High King could feel that his Dread Stalkers were alert and ready to take action the moment he ordered them to do so. After taking a moment to consider his options, Anub’arak decided to ease the tension before someone acted foolishly.

“Explain yourself, now,” Anub’arak ordered.

Elder Nox’tir bowed and began to respond with visible relief in his expression, “Of course, You—”

“Not you,” Anub’arak interrupted before turning his gaze to the youngest Vizier in the group. “Vizier Krivax, you will be the one to explain this ‘Order of Kal’tut’ to me.”

“Y–Your Majesty? Vizier Krivax is merely a few years old, surel—”

“He is the worst liar out of all of you, and I tire of being fed falsehoods,” said Anub’arak, glaring at Elder Nox’tir and interrupting him for the second time. “You and your organization have proven yourself willing to deceive me for my entire reign. I have no interest in listening to whatever story you intend to sell me, Elder Nox’tir. If you do not believe Vizier Krivax to be sufficiently qualified to speak for your organization, then you should have considered that before bringing him here.”

Anub’arak knew that he made the correct decision once he saw Elder Nox’tir glance at Vizier Krivax apprehensively.

“Vizier Krivax, know that my protection is available to you if you are being coerced,” said Anub’arak, causing the anxious young Vizier to slightly startle. From everything that he had seen so far, he doubted that Vizier Krivax was being forced to do anything against his will, but Anub’arak felt compelled to make the offer regardless. “Given your relative youth, you could not have been a member of this organization for particularly long.”

Vizier Krivax looked to his mentor for guidance on how to proceed, but he quickly calmed down and resolved himself once it became clear that he would be receiving none, “Your Majesty, I really don’t know as much about the Order as Elder Nox’tir, but I will explain things as best that I can. I think I should start by explaining to you what the Void is, and then share what I was told about the Order’s history…”

Anub’arak listened patiently as the young Vizier did just that. Despite the fact that Vizier Krivax lacked the ability to successfully lie to him, Anub’arak didn’t actually believe everything that he was being told. Withholding accurate information from younger or less trusted members was common practice for any organization with something to hide.

Still, hearing what the Order of Kal’tut told its new members was valuable, even if that information was not necessarily accurate.

Or at least, that’s what Anub’arak thought until he expressed skepticism about the threat of the Void, only for Elder Nox’tir to eagerly offer to perform a demonstration that was traditionally given to their new members.

Anub’arak carefully considered the risks before agreeing and allowing the Vizier to retrieve a ‘bottle of concentrated Void’ from his spatial bag. The Dread Stalkers positioned themselves so that they could immediately skewer Elder Nox’tir at the first sign of treachery, but the Vizier did nothing aside from retrieving a bottle that contained some kind of squirming pitch-black substance.

As soon as the bottle's stopper was removed, Anub’arak could immediately feel a strange sense of malice emanating from the substance. Elder Nox’tir didn’t hesitate to throw the bottle at a non-sapient skitter that had been called for the demonstration, causing it to quickly begin screeching in pain.

Anub’arak would not have considered the Void to be any more dangerous than a common alchemical acid if it wasn’t for what happened next. Throughout the entire demonstration, he had been telepathically connected with the skitterer so that he could more accurately determine the effects of this so-called Void.

That was why he could feel that connection began being corrupted only for some manner of strange and alien intelligence to slowly start taking over the skitter’s mind. Once he felt that intelligence noticed him, Anub’arak ended his telepathic connection as quickly as he could.

“Kill it. Now.” Anub’arak immediately ordered. It was only after he wasn’t focused on the skitterer’s mind that he noticed the physical changes that were taking place to the creature.

They were not pleasant.

Vizier Hadix didn’t hesitate to burn the creature to ashes with a stream of flames. The council room was silent for several moments as Anub’arak and Elder Nadox processed what they had just seen.

I can see why such a demonstration is considered to be traditional. It is quite effective.

Once he finished composing himself, Anub’arak suppressed his anger at having the existence of something so dangerous hidden from him and calmly ordered Vizier Krivax to continue his explanations.

Unfortunately, the more that Vizier Krivax spoke, the more difficult Anub’arak found it to contain his anger. Halfway through, he ordered the Viziers to present any documents that they had brought that contained information about their organization. Reading through a complete list of their members did nothing to calm Anub’arak down.

The Order of Kal’tut’s membership list contained the names of many of the most powerful Viziers in his kingdom, including a member of his very own council, Seer Ixit.

When the young Vizier began explaining why the Order of Kal’tut refused to recruit from the other castes, Anub’arak expected Elder Nox’tir to interject with a correction.

When he didn’t, the High King finally lost control of his patience.

“Allow me to repeat your explanations so that I can be certain that I’m understanding the situation correctly,” said Anub’arak, his voice low and menacing. “Your organization has hidden vital information from the rightful leaders of Azjol-Nerub for the past ten thousand years because you believe that Spiderlords and Queens are too incapable of properly protecting themselves from the Void, is that correct?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty! We have nothing but the highest respect for the kingdom’s Spiderlords and Queens,” Elder Nox’tir hurriedly denied. “It’s simply that Viziers are more proficient in using magic to shield their minds from the Void’s influence!”

“I don’t believe you,” Anub’arak immediately responded, shooting the Vizier a glare cold enough to make him flinch. “Would you like to know what I believe to be your organization’s genuine motivations? I think it’s far more likely that you all hid yourselves due to actual necessity at first until you all received a taste of power and decided that you didn’t wish to share. If I investigate your members, I highly suspect to find that your organization uses its influence to elevate them beyond what they deserve. Is that assumption correct, Elder Nox’tir?”

The Vizier very wisely decided to keep silent. Anub’arak was glad, he wasn’t quite sure how he would have responded if the fool tried to feed him another lie.

Anub’arak turned his gaze to Vizier Hadix before continuing to speak, “If your history in particular is any indication, then the Order of Kal’tut seems to be more than willing to use its power to subvert our justice system. Or do you intend to tell me that it is a mere coincidence that your mentor was found to be guilty of practicing ‘dangerous magics’? Does your organization always recruit the students of the Void corrupted Viziers that it extrajudicially assassinates?”

“No, it does not,” said Vizier Hadix, a flash of anger crossing his expression as he spoke up for the first time. “I have never agreed with the Order’s decision to recruit from only the Vizier caste, but you are mistaken if you believe that our actions have been only self-serving. We have prevented several potential catastrophes throughout your reign, and we’ve come to you now because we’ve been confronted with a threat that we cannot handle alone.”

Anub’arak knew that Vizier Hadix was attempting to draw his focus away from the Order’s deeds and toward whatever it was that threatened Azjol-Nerub, but he decided to allow the change in topic. His duty was to act in the best interests of his kingdom, regardless of his personal feelings.

“Explain to me what these threats are,” said Anub’arak, directing his order to Vizier Krivax.

“Yes, Your Majesty. There are a few documents that detail them in great detail.”

Anub’arak listened quietly as Vizier Krivax weaved a tale about mind-manipulating magic and potential void cultists hiding among the human nations. He listened as the Vizier spoke about a corrupted dragon that was large enough to kill a Spiderlord with a single claw and collapse their kingdom's tunnels down on their heads. He continued to remain silent as he spoke about his meeting with another mad dragon who possessed magical power that far exceeded even the most powerful of Viziers.

Once Vizier Krivax was finished speaking, Anub’arak said nothing beyond ordering the Viziers to remain quiet as he read through the documents that they had brought and decided what to do with them.

Anub’arak quickly scanned through the documents. Many of them described events in which the Order of Kal’tut supposedly saved Azjol-Nerub from potential threats throughout the years. He set those aside first and began reading through the transcript of Vizier Krivax’s meeting with the Council of Six and the dragon known as Malygos. Anub’arak paused halfway through reading when the document referenced a ‘demigod’ who lived on a continent named ‘Kalimdor,’ and cited a separate report which contained information on the Order’s investigation into the Kirin Tor.

As he read through the multiple recorded references to Kalimdor, Anub’arak could feel some of his anger being replaced by a weary exasperation.

Another continent? Truly?

His mind turned to Azjol-Nerub’s efforts to construct a navy before he forced himself to refocus on the matter at hand. Anub’arak ignored the tension in the room as he silently read through the rest of the documents.

Once he was done, the High King fell into deliberation as he analyzed everything that he had learned and attempted to settle on the best course of action. Eventually, Anub’arak reached a conclusion and his voice cut through the silence, “From this point onward, the Order of Kal’tut no longer exists. I will be sending immediate orders for its dissolution as soon as this meeting has been concluded, as well as orders for a thorough investigation into their activities and historical records.”

Anub’arak simply could not allow such a powerful organization to exist outside of his control. The Order of Kal’tut in its current form was an explicit threat to the authority of not only him, but also every High King who came after him. He also needed to know definitively how much of what he had been told was the truth, and that was not something that Anub’arak could establish without a full investigation.

However… the Void was still a genuine threat to the safety of Azjol-Nerub. If these ‘Old Gods’ were not merely legends meant to fool impressionable hatchlings, and his people had originated from their essence, then the Void would always be a unique threat to the safety and autonomy of his people.

Anub’arak studied the reactions of the Viziers. Elder Nox’tir was wearing a stunned expression, but Vizier Hadix seemed much calmer while Vizier Krivax looked to be… relieved?

The High King continued once he saw that none of them were foolish enough to protest, “A new organization will be created that will be dedicated to protecting Azjol-Nerub from the Void and taking on the Order’s duties. This organization will be directly under the kingdom’s control and will include members of all castes. The former members of the Order of Kal’tut may or may not find themselves reassigned to this organization from their current duties.”

Such an organization was necessary, and it gave Anub’arak an excuse to potentially push troublesome Viziers from important roles by reassigning them away from their positions of power. It would have to be done slowly so as to not cause excessive political turmoil, but Anub’arak had no intention of ignoring those who had shown themselves to be unworthy of trust.

After today, Seer Ixit would certainly not be on his council…

Anub’arak pushed those thoughts away and prepared himself to give an order that no High King had given in fifteen millennia, “Elder Nadox, once this meeting is over, call for an emergency gathering of my council. Inform them that Azjol-Nerub will be going to war against the Horde and that we must discuss the necessary preparations. We will also need to decide on who will be sent to aid Dalaran in securing the Dragon Soul.”

The effect of his words was immediate as every single nerubian in the room showed expressions of surprise.

“War?! Your Majesty, are you certain?”

Anub’arak nodded solemnly, “I am. If our investigations validate what I’ve been told to be true, then Deathwing is an existential threat to Azjol-Nerub and the Horde are being used as his tools. That is absolutely unacceptable. If our safety requires the defeat of the Horde, the retrieval of the Dragon Soul, and the destruction of Deathwing, then we will do everything in our power to achieve those goals. Not only that, but constructing additional settlements in the Eastern Kingdoms has now become a necessity. We can’t afford to not have a presence there when the next threat appears.”

Once his reasoning was explained, Elder Nadox seemed to quickly find himself in agreement, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Elder Nox’tir, you may return to Naz’anak. Your presence is no longer required,” Anub’arak said dismissively. “Vizier Hadix and Vizier Krivax, you both have much experience with the Eastern Kingdoms. You stay for a while so that you can answer any questions my council might have about either the Order, the Void, or the Eastern Kingdoms.”

In time, all of Azjol-Nerub’s leadership would know of the Void, its origins, and its dangers so that they would be prepared. But for now, only a select few would be informed of the situation until the investigations were over.

Anub’arak had no intention of hiding what he had learned from his own advisors. As soon as the two Viziers expressed their agreement and Elder Nadox left to carry out his instructions, Anub’arak ceased paying attention to them and focused on planning for the coming war.

Despite everything that he had learned since the discovery of the Eastern Kingdoms, Anub’arak still firmly believed that Azjol-Nerub was the most powerful civilization in the world.

He had no doubt that the rest of the world would soon share his opinion.

Chapter Text

As Krivax walked through the streets of Dalaran while making his way to the Violet Hold, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sort of… pride. That was perhaps a strange thing to feel while walking toward a magical prison, but Krivax could tell that by looking around him that things were beginning to move in the right direction.

He still remembered the expressions of worry and fear that he had grown used to seeing on the faces of Dalaran’s natives after the start of the war. The Alliance was more than holding its own and had achieved many successes on the battlefield, but that did little to comfort those who lived in constant fear of losing their loved ones to the Horde. After the Horde seemed to form some kind of alliance with the forest trolls of Zul’Aman, that fear had reached new heights.

There had been a brief boost to morale when Azjol-Nerub announced its intention to declare war on the Horde several months ago, but that boost faded when it became clear there would be few immediate changes. Aside from the lengthy investigations that the High King had to conduct into the Order’s history and activities, there was a lot of logistical work that needed to be done to properly prepare a kingdom for war.

Food needed to be stockpiled, weapons needed to be forged, and transportation needed to be accounted for. It turns out that while portals were perfectly fine for transporting a relatively small number of important individuals, consistently transporting entire armies was a monumental task. Not only that, but it was difficult to open multiple permanent portals to the same place due to the interactions that portals had on leylines.

The Dark Portal was an extreme exception, given that it was created by one of the most powerful mages in the Warcraft franchise, who also just happened to be possessed by an evil god.

Dalaran was quite capable, but they couldn’t quite compare to that.

Things would have been far easier if Azjol-Nerub was able to transport its army over the sea, but Azjol-Nerub’s navy was still pretty much in the planning stages and the Alliance Navy was already in full deployment against the Horde.

Despite all of these difficulties, the portal between Dalaran and En’kilah had been in a state of nearly constant use for the past few months, and Azjol-Nerub’s contributions to the war effort were steadily increasing. The effect of this had been profound for the people of the Eastern Kingdoms, who now looked to the future with a sense of optimism and hope that they lacked just a few months ago.

Krivax knew that the Alliance would have prevailed over the Horde even without Azjol-Nerub’s help, but he still couldn’t help but feel proud of his accomplishments whenever he looked at the smiling faces of the pedestrians.

Krivax felt his mood brighten further as he spotted one of his favorite new developments to happen in the past few months.

“Ms. Sherwood! How’s business today?” Krivax asked as he diverted from his path to approach the kindly old woman who was standing behind a food stall.

“Business has been good, dear. Especially with you stopping by so often,” Ms. Sherwood said with a fond smile. “Would you like your usual, or are you willing to try something new? I just received a shipment of Silverpine Fireflies, and I’d like to hear the opinion of my favorite customer.”

Most people were still generally uncomfortable being around nerubians, but Ms. Sherwood seemed to be a notable exception. Krivax had noticed that the looks that he received from the common folk were gradually growing more friendly ever since Azjol-Nerub started fighting the Horde in earnest, so had hope that Ms. Sherwood would not be an exception forever.

“Well I do enjoy trying new things,” said Krivax as he handed over a few Lordraenian copper pieces. “And I’ve never been disappointed by any of your goods.”

Ms. Sherwood chuckled and presented him with a piece of freshly baked bread filled with faintly glowing insects, “Oh, there’s no need to flatter an old woman like me.”

Krivax took a bite of the bread and immediately let out a sigh of satisfaction. It was a bit difficult for him to recall exactly what things used to taste like when he was human after living as a nerubian for over six years, but he had no complaints as far as food went in his second life.

“It’s delicious, Ms. Sherwood,” said Krivax, sharing his honest opinion. “I’m sure it will sell well with all of the new nerubians passing through the city.”

The number of nerubians in Dalaran had soared since Azjol-Nerub’s entry into the war, and there was no shortage of merchants looking to make money accommodating them.

“Oh, I’m sure it will, dear, but money’s not why I do this,” said Ms. Sherwood. “I’m just a baker, and these insects are still rather expensive. I doubt that I’ll make very much profit when all’s said and done.”

“If it’s not profitable, then why are you baking specifically for nerubians?” Krivax asked curiously.

“Well, my grandson’s a mage and he’s been sent off to fight the Horde,” said Ms. Sherwood, her expression a mixture of pride and sadness. “The boy tries to ease my heart by sending back letters, but I can’t help but worry for him. I hear from my friends all the time about how dangerous those monsters are, and I’ve been to too many funerals lately. I could tell from his letters early on in the war that he wasn’t expecting to come back home…”

Krivax was filled with a wave of sympathy as he listened to the old woman’s story, “I’m sorry to hear that, Ms. Sherwood.”

“Don’t be, dear,” said the old woman, shaking her head. “I’m luckier than most, and things are starting to look better thanks to you spiderfolk. My grandson told me that it’s thanks to you folk that there were any survivors after what happened over in Tol Barad.”

“I think you should thank the Alliance Navy for that, Ms. Sherwood,” Krivax said honestly.

Tol Barad was an island south of Gilneas whose population was nearly completely slaughtered by the Horde. While it was true that the scouting capabilities of the Alliance Navy’s nerubian flyers allowed them to discover the attack almost immediately, the actual fighting had been done by the Alliance.

“I’d thank them too if they were here in front of me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you folk are helping us,” said Ms. Sherwood, her tone chiding. “Besides, that ain’t all you’ve done. My grandson fought down in Hillsbrad and he told me all about how one of those big beetle fellas helped them fight off the greenskins. I can’t do much to show my appreciation, but the least I can do is make sure I’m selling something you folk like to eat.”

Krivax felt touched. He didn’t have very many opportunities lately to speak with the common people of the Eastern Kingdoms given his position, so it was nice to hear evidence that he was actually impacting Azeroth in a positive way. Krivax only hoped that continued to be the case.

“Where is your grandson fighting now? Is he still in Hillsbrad?”

“He was, but the Alliance has decided to send him to help over in Quel’Thalas,” Ms. Sherwood said before her expression suddenly turned pleading. “I’m not sure what you can tell me, but have you heard anything about how things are going over there? I’ve heard that those nasty trolls are fighting with the Horde now.”

After failing to conquer the Hillsbrad Foothills, the Horde had freed a troll warlord by the name of Zul’jin from some Alliance keep before traveling east to the Hinterlands. From there, they made the mistake of antagonizing the Wildhammer Dwarves, who quickly set upon them with their Gryphon riders. The Horde took significant casualties until they managed to increase their number of undead dragons and contest the Wildhammer’s air superiority.

However, the Hinterlands was not the Horde’s main objective and they quickly began marching further north toward Quel’thalas. Krivax didn’t exactly remember everything that had happened during the Second War, but it didn’t take a genius to realize why the Horde was attacking the elves.

The Horde needed the forest trolls to help them pass through lands that they were unfamiliar with quickly, and Zul’Aman considered Quel’Thalas to be their mortal enemies.

Krivax had been reading reports of the ongoing battles, and it seemed clear to him that the war was reaching its most bloody period. The Horde had finally managed to transfer the bulk of its forces across Baradin Bay and was attempting to completely overwhelm the Alliance with their superior numbers. With the aid of the forest trolls, they had managed to inflict a humiliating defeat on QuelThalas, burning much of their countryside, and it seemed like the elves were being pushed back towards Silvermoon.

Despite this, Krivax knew that Azjol-Nerub was sending more and more troops to the Eastern Kingdoms with every passing day. Spiderlord and jormungar were effective in breaking Horde positions in any battle they participated in, and swarms of skitterers flooded over enemy lines.

Time was decidedly not on the Horde’s side.

Krivax thought about what he could and couldn’t say before he responded, “The fighting is at its bloodiest right now, but all signs point to things turning in the Alliance’s favor soon.”

As long as we don’t lose to Deathwing once we find the Dragon Soul, that is.

Ms. Sherwood thanked him for the reassuring news and gave him another piece of firefly bread to show her appreciation. Krivax said his farewells and once again began making his way to the Violet Hold with his spirits lifted.

It didn’t take long for Krivax to reach his destination and find himself being stopped by a pair of guards who asked him to state his name and business.

“Vizier Krivax with the Anomalous Magic Research Division,” Krivax said with a hint of exasperation as he provided the name of the Order’s successor organization. He wasn’t quite sure if non-nerubians were just that bad at distinguishing nerubian features or if security was just that strict since this was a prison, but the guards continued to ask his name even though he’d visited the Violet Hold many times. “I’m here to request a progress report from Archmage Kel’Thuzad and Queen Khitix down in level four.”

Krivax couldn’t help but sympathize as he watched the guards stiffen once he mentioned ‘level four,’ which was one of the deepest portions of the Violet Hold, which was where the Kirin Tor ran the most ‘intensive’ of its experiments on their most dangerous prisoners.

The Circle of Viziers had negotiated a research agreement with the Kirin Tor, and there was now a significant amount of cooperation between the two organizations when it came to research of all kinds, especially magical. The last time that Krivax had seen Kel’Thuzad and Queen Khitix, the two of them had been thoroughly and joyfully… examining a Death Knight, so he could see why most people would not want to have anything to do with level four.

The guards quickly checked his credentials and examined him for any mind-altering and shapeshifting magic, along with a variety of other magics, before sending him on his way.

Once he was inside, Krivax immediately began making his way past the various guards, researchers, and of course, prisoners and test subjects in their cells behind bars and violet-colored arcane barriers. Level one was mainly filled with regular criminals, a variety of non-magical animals that were generally used for experimentation, and other mundane things.

He wasn’t surprised to see that many of the researchers were nerubians, as his new organization often had personnel moving throughout the Violet Hold.

The newly formed ‘Anomalous Magic Research Division’ had been named in a way that was deliberately similar to the other divisions of the Circle of Viziers. From an outside perspective, the division was a response to the discovery of the Light and was responsible for researching it and any other ‘strange’ forms of magic that Azjol-Nerub might be exposed to during its exploration of the world outside of Northrend.

And while they did devote some of their resources to the study of the Light and several other new discoveries, especially after discovering how it interacted with the Void, the Anomalous Magic Research Division had a few notable differences from other divisions. While most divisions had regional branches for each city, there was only one Anomalous Magic Research Division, and they answered directly to the High King.

The only regional branches were the Northrend and Eastern Kingdom branches, while the Kalimdor branch was expected to be created once contact was made with the continent.

Honestly, Krivax wasn’t completely certain why the High King chose to set things up this way, but he knew that there was an annoying amount of politics and bureaucracy involved. But whatever his motivations, it seemed like the only ones who knew that the division was the successor organization to the Order of Kal’tut were those who were supposed to know.

It was honestly quite impressive.

Following Krivax’s conversation with the High King, he and Hadix had been transferred to the Eastern Kingdom’s branch of the division. Neither one of them was particularly upset by this.

Hadix was happy as long as the Void was being confronted and Krivax hadn't actually seen that much change to his daily duties, at least not yet. Azjol-Nerub had ultimately decided that he was more valuable in his role as a diplomat than anywhere else and had seen fit to leave him there, for which he was grateful.

He knew for a fact that, based on what Hadix told him, many other former members of the Order were not particularly pleased with their various reassignments. Unfortunately for them, they would either learn to adapt or the High King would make his displeasure known.

Hadix trusted his colleagues to learn to play ball with their new lot in life quickly… or not. Krivax had gotten the feeling that his mentor didn’t particularly care one way or another if they chose to act ‘foolishly,’ as he put it.

It was one of the few times that Krivax didn’t mind being overlooked due to his relatively young age since it resulted in the High King viewing him as ‘low-risk.’ His meeting with the High King, and his subsequent meeting with the council, had already been tense enough for Krivax to know he much preferred to not be the subject of the High King’s attention.

Krivax’s musing was cut short as he passed through the portal that would take him directly down to level four. The Violet Hold was specifically warded to prevent teleportation in and out of prison, but specialized portals still allowed for internal teleportation, and could be activated and deactivated as necessary.

Basically like a magical high-security elevator.

He could feel highly complex wards run over him to once again check him for a variety of magics once he arrived on the other side of the portal. Although level four wasn’t designed much differently from any other level in the Violet Hold, Krivax immediately felt more tense. Not only was level four mostly empty of activity and the prisoners vastly more dangerous, but he could also feel… something watching him whenever he was there.

Krivax had once asked Archmage Kel’Thuzad about where that feeling came from, but the only answer that he had received was that it was ‘security.’

Krivax hurriedly skittered through halls, intent on getting his business done as quickly as possible. After passing by one cell that contained what to be a naga sea witch and another that contained a massive fire elemental, Krivax turned down the hallway that led toward his destination. Even if this had been his first time making this trip, Krivax would know that he was headed in the right direction by the increasing amount of ‘anomalous’ entities contained within.

Primarily, these entities were things that both Azjol-Nerub and the Dalaran had little experience in, such as the previously unknown races of the Horde, the necromantic magic of the Death Knights, and the Void in general. Krivax paused outside Kel’Thuzad’s primary laboratory and shuddered as he spotted a void-corrupted creature that vaguely resembled a male dwarf.

“Fascinating creature, isn’t it?”

Krivax flinched in surprise and turned to see Archmage Kel’Thuzad standing at the entrance of his lab.

“It was captured recently by Anub’rekhan and delivered to us for examination,” said Kel’Thuzad, either not noticing Krivax’s discomfort or choosing to ignore it completely. “Although I find myself to be far more interested in necromantic magic than I am in shadow magic, or Void as you nerubians refer to it, I do believe there’s much that we can learn from its study. Did you know that despite appearing superficially to be a corrupted dwarf, this creature could actually be considered an entirely different species?”

“Uh… No?”

“There are many examples of creatures with magically altered physiologies that we know of resulting in reproductively viable creatures, but such a thing is usually difficult to replicate artificially,” said Archmage Kel’Thuzad, his normally dull eyes lighting up at the topic. “But when one is using the Void there seems to be an exception. These creatures seem to be entirely capable of reproduction, and their offspring are born similarly corrupted to themselves. Reproducing this result with the Void is extremely simple. Queen Khitix was extremely delighted when we discovered this phenomenon.”

“That's… nice, Archmage. I’m glad to hear that your experiments are producing results,” said Krivax, trying his best not to think about how exactly they managed to discover that phenomenon.

“As am I. Research has been much more productive since the Kirin Tor began cooperating with your people,” said Kel’Thuzad. The Archmage abruptly turned and began walking back into his lab with Krivax quickly following behind him after a moment of hesitation.

The laboratory itself was well-lit and filled with tools fit for magical research and shelves that contained a variety of spellbooks lined the walls. There was a workbench that seemed to hold a mortar and pestle, as well as numerous vials that held an assortment of strangely colored alchemical substances. Enchanted tools, most of which Krivax was unable to recognize, were all organized neatly in a corner of the room.

Honestly, Kel’Thuzad’s laboratory would have looked far more ordinary than he had expected… if not for its occupants.

Krivax glanced over at the massive form of Queen Khitix, who was currently looming over the dismembered torso of a Death Knight that was being magically suspended in the air over an arcane glyph. The Death Knight’s limbs were also suspended near his torso, giving him the appearance of some kind of doll that a malicious child had chosen to tear apart.

As generally horrifying as the sight was, it was made worse by the fact that the Death Knight was still ‘alive’ and was glaring at Queen Khitix with a mixture of hatred and despair. Death Knights were extremely difficult to kill and didn’t need to worry about mundane concerns like eating or bleeding out.

While the Queen was nominally Krivax’s superior in the Anomalous Magic Research Division, she seemed content to ignore him in favor of doing… whatever she was doing with the Death Knight.

Aside from the Queen and her test subject, the only other occupant in the room was a cat that was calmly lounging in a corner of the laboratory…

“While I do enjoy speaking about my research, I am quite busy so I believe it would be best if we moved on to business. How may I help you, Vizier Krivax?” asked Kel’Thuzad, drawing Krivax’s attention away from the strange sight.

“I’ve been sent to request an update on the progress of your research in regard to Project Dragonseeker and Project Deanimation,” said Krivax. Given that he was both a diplomat and a member of the Anomalous Magic Research Division, he was the most logical choice to act as a liaison between the division and the Kirin Tor.

The Archmage rarely left his laboratory without reason and had a tendency to become engrossed in his work, so there was a need to occasionally send someone to personally receive progress reports.

Kel’Thuzad’s expression twisted into one of displeasure. “Project Deanimation has seen little progress. While it’s a relatively simple thing to create an alchemical substance that affects the undead, it is much more difficult to create a substance that can affect the undead while not also affecting the living. While I am quite certain that it’s possible, achieving success will take more time than expected.”

Project Deanimation referred to Kel’Thuzad’s efforts to create an alchemical poison that only affected the undead, which was something that very much interested Krivax for obvious reasons. Channeling the Archmage’s fascination with the undead into something constructive was definitely a step in the right direction as far as he was concerned.

It was disappointing to hear that the project was making little progress, but such a result was probably to be expected. If it was so easy to create such a poison, then the Lich King would not have been near as much of a threat as he actually was.

“As for Project Dragonseeker, we have made the opposite of progress. I’m nearly certain that it is impossible,” said Kel’Thuzad, causing Krivax to let out a sigh of disappointment.

Project Dragonseeker was an attempt to develop divination rituals that could both accurately detect the location of things being hidden by the Void over long distances and pierce through Void-based anti-divination wards. The Order of Kal’tut had been working on similar rituals for most of its history, but only achieved limited results. There had been some hope that collaboration between a wide range of researchers would have been more successful, but it seemed like that wasn’t going to be the case.

“According to our experiments, the Void seems to naturally gain a certain degree of sentience once it reaches sufficient levels of concentration,” Kel’Thuzad continued to explain. “Any spells that we create are simply adapted to and overcome. The divination ritual that Azjol-Nerub provided to us is likely already the limit of what is possible. Improving on it further is impossible unless we are somehow able to create arcane spells with similar degrees of intelligence, and that is far beyond our capabilities. The Void just seems to be remarkably well-suited to this manner of magic.”

Krivax was once again disappointed, but still not particularly surprised. As far as he was concerned, attempting to find the Dragon Soul with arcane magic was a fool's errand given that Malygos would have likely already done so if it were possible.

“Thank you Archmage. I’ll be sure to pass your words on to Vizier Hadix and the rest of the Council of Six as soon as possible. If there’s nothing further, then I’ll allow you to return to your research,” said Krivax, more than ready to leave.

“Before you go, Vizier Krivax, there is one thing that I’d like to know,” said Kel’Thuzad, stopping Krivax in place. “Given the failure of Project Dragonseeker, I would like to know whether or not any of our other efforts to locate the Dragon Soul have been met with more success?”

“Together with the Dragonflights, we’ve managed to narrow it down greatly and eliminate a lot of possibilities, but we still haven’t found it,” Krivax said grimly. Even though he had always known that his metaknowledge would gradually become less and less useful, it was still frustrating to not know something so important. “Lord Malygos seems to believe that the Dragon Soul is most likely somewhere with the Horde. According to him, Deathwing would favor keeping it somewhere that is well-defended and easily accessible rather than relying purely on subterfuge.”

There had been a few proposals to send in spies to look for the Dragon Soul, but there was too great a risk of them being discovered and their memories searched.

“Hm. That is unfortunate,” said Kel’Thuzad, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. Regardless of anything else, Deathwing was a threat that everyone in Azeroth needed to worry about. The longer that he remained alive, the worse things were going to get. “But I suppose there’s nothing more to be done about it. If we’ve managed to narrow down the location to somewhere within the Horde, then I’m sure it's only a matter of time before we find it.”

Krivax hoped that would be the case. He truly didn’t know how he would deal with it if his actions actually resulted in a worse outcome for Azeroth…

After saying his farewells to the Archmage, Krivax made his way out of the Violet Hold in a worse mood than when he went in and feeling a bit worried for the future. However, he had one more errand to handle for the day, so Krivax forced himself to focus on the present instead of on his pessimistic thoughts.

During his first visit to the city, he had hired a few goblins from the Venture Company to go out and find something for him, and Krivax had just recently received a letter back from them claiming success…

Weaving a ward around himself that would allow him to walk through the streets relatively unnoticed, Krivax quickly began making his way to the Underbelly.

Situated deep within the Nexus, an ancient fortress that served as the Blue Dragonflight’s ancestral home, the Aspect of Magic listened wearily as an excited young dragon spoke about his time in Dalaran.

Malygos found it slightly easier to speak with Kalecgos than the other members of his flight. The whelp still looked at him with the same undeserved reverence as the others, but he at least lacked their pity…

Even his fellow Aspects alternated between treating Malygos like he was a wounded animal or a mana bomb that threatened to explode at any moment.

Can you really blame them? You spent the past ten thousand years wallowing in sorrow and forsaking your duties. Why would they look at you any other way?

As was slowly starting to become a habit since he had left his lair, Malygos quickly cast a spell on himself to search for the Void’s influence only to find nothing. His aberrant thoughts seemed to be nothing more than the symptoms of a mind that had been deteriorating for millennia.

Malygos forced himself not to think about that and focused his attention on Kalecgos. The whelp was supposed to be giving him a briefing on the ongoings of that mortal city, but he seemed to be more interested in talking about something else. Malygos listened for a few moments as Kalecgos went on about how ‘fascinating’ the mortals were and how glad he was that he was able to interact with them without hiding the fact that he was a dragon.

“As interesting as this is, I believe we’ve veered off topic,” said Malygos, interrupting the young dragon and causing an embarrassed expression to grow on his face that reminded Malygos too much of his youngest son, Unbe… Umbra…

Holding back a growl of frustration, Malygos sullenly cast a quick memory recollection spell. As soon as the spell was finished, he was suddenly bombarded with memories of his youngest son Umbreskul, who was currently still alive but sleeping in stasis after suffering the incurable effects of a magical accident.

While you indulged in your misery, your own son was forgotten. What would Sindragosa think if she was still alive?

Malygos forced himself to ignore the reminder of another family member who he had failed and focused on the present.

“I apologize, Lord Malygos,” Kalecgos said guiltily. “My thoughts have a tendency to get away from me at times.”

“It is quite alright, young one,” said Malygos, struggling to keep his voice gentle. “That is quite common among members of our Flight and is something that will become easier to control with age. But please, focus on telling me about our efforts to search for the Dragon Soul.”

The mere mention of the artifact that had been used to slaughter most of his Flight threatened to throw Malygos into a rage, but he forced himself to control his emotions as best he could before young Kalecgos.

“Oh, right. Queen Alexstrasza said that we’re pretty close to finding it,” Kalecgos said seriously. “We think the Dragon Soul is probably being held by the Twilight Hammer Clan given that they seem to be Void practitioners, but we’re not really certain.”

Malygos thought about it and decided that it sounded like something that Neltharion would do. The Dragon Soul needed to be kept within mortal hands in order to be effective, and those who were already corrupted by the Void would be the easiest for Neltharion to control.

“Have you delivered my proposal to her about the dragonsworn? How did she respond?” said Malygos, his mind sorting through the magical artifacts contained within the Nexus’ vault.

Alexstrasza had refused at first to send her dragonsworn to search for the Dragon Soul among the Horde, citing concerns that any spies that were sent would be captured and have their minds plundered by Neltharion. She worried that if their traitorous brother discovered how close they were to finding the Dragon Soul, then he would move it elsewhere and they would need to spend several more months searching for it.

It was a reasonable concern, so Malygos developed a spell that would utterly destroy the soul of the mortal as soon as they were captured. Unfortunately, the existence of necromancy made it necessary to go to such great lengths when keeping secrets. Raising intelligent undead was not perfectly reliable and suicide was not exactly uncommon among spies, so such a spell should not cause undue suspicion.

As long as Neltharion was unable to read their mind, then it would be impossible for him to distinguish the dragonsworn from the rest of the mortals who were undoubtedly spying on the Horde.

When Kalecgos failed to answer, Malygos turned his attention to the younger dragon’s hesitant expression and instantly knew that he was about to hear something unpleasant.

“Speak, Kalecgos.”

“Well… Queen Alexstrasza is refusing to send in any dragonsworn.”

Malygos instantly lost control of his anger and his voice thundered across the Nexus, “What?! Does she not understand how important this is? What reason could she possibly have for such a foolish decision?”

“Q-Queen Alexstrasza said the risk is too high and your methods are too c-cruel,” Kalecgos said nervously.

Malygos immediately let out a bellowing roar filled with anger and frustration.

Alexstrasza was always like this, choosing to hold on to her soft-hearted views when the fate of the world was hanging in the balance! Who cared about the souls of a few mortals? What had they ever done aside from allowing their greed and foolishness to shatter the world?!

They didn’t lose as much as you did! Their Flights aren’t shattered like yours!

Malygos didn’t know for how long he raged, but by the time he was done, much of his lair had been destroyed and Kalecgos was backed into a corner and huddled behind an arcane barrier. The sight instantly doused any remnants of anger within him and replaced them with guilt.

“Lord Malygos, are you alright now?” Kalecgos asked tentatively, releasing his barrier.

“Yes, I am,” Malygos said regretfully. “I apologize, Kalecgos. I did not intend to frighten you.”

“I understand. Even while you were enraged, you still avoided attacking anything near me,” said Kalecgos, seemingly unaffected by the situation. “I know that things have been difficult for our Flight, so moments like this are to be expected. I trust you not to hurt me, Lord Malygos.”

Malygos wished that he shared Kalecgos’ faith. There were times that he felt as if he wanted nothing more than to destroy everything around him, and he didn’t trust himself to avoid spreading that desire to his Flight.

Malygos listened patiently as Kalecgos finished sharing Alexstrasza’s decision. Apparently, she wished to meet with him in a few days to discuss a new plan for finding the Dragon Soul. After agreeing to meet with Alexstrasza, he quickly sent the younger dragon away and began considering his options.

If Alexstrasza was so reluctant to risk the lives of mortals, then there was little that they could actually do to verify the Dragon Souls' location. If the Twilight Hammer Clan was truly corrupted by the Void, then it would be difficult for Ysera to see into their dreams, and Nozdormu never shared any information that he didn’t wish to…

In the space of a few moments, Malygos considered half a dozen plans before dismissing them as being either too ‘immoral’ for Alexstrasza to accept or simply too unfeasible.

Do they not see how important this is?

As far as Malygos was concerned, every moment that Neltharion remained alive felt like torture. There wasn’t a moment when the knowledge that his traitorous brother was still alive while most of his Flight remained dead wasn't tearing at Malygos’ mind.

If you wish to kill Neltharion then you will need to take a risk.

He already knew that if he was to inform his fellow Aspects about what he was currently considering, they would not react well…

For good reason.

Malygos likely knew more about the Dragon Soul’s magic than any other being on Azeroth, aside from Neltharion. He was the one who convinced his siblings to imbue the artifact with their power, something that he had only done after a thorough examination.

That was why Malygos was certain of his ability to resist the Dragon Soul’s effect long enough for him to escape if such a thing ever became necessary. Given that, was there anything preventing Malygos from going to search for it himself? He was perfectly capable of casting an invisibility spell that could fool even the greatest of mortal mages.

With reckless plans forming in his mind, he began making his way to the Nexus’ vault. Because after ten millennia of doing nothing, Malygos intended to take action.

No matter the cost.

Chapter Text

After successfully mastering a few of the geomancy spells that he’d been learning from Hadix, Krivax should have been in a relatively good mood. Unfortunately, it was hard to feel happy when you were about to participate in a highly dangerous ritual…

Participating in rituals was never something that Krivax would have had to worry about before the creation of the Anomalous Magic Research Division, but things had changed a lot over the past few months.

As Krivax walked through the tunnels of the nerubian enclave in Dalaran while making his way to the enclave's ritual chamber, he couldn’t help but look around and take in those changes.

After all, the enclave’s significant expansion significantly affected Krivax’s day-to-day life.

Where before the tunnels had been rather sparsely populated by a few nerubians who were sent to learn magic in Dalaran, they were now constantly active with Viziers and Initiates moving about their business. There were also several of the High King’s Dread Stalkers stationed in the enclave, presumably to surveil them, but Krivax couldn’t see any as he made his way through the tunnels. Masruk, at least, was enjoying their company and he was definitely learning a lot from them.

Krivax had noticed that his friend was generally in a better mood recently now that he was let into the secret and had more people to spar with.

He had expected that Anub’rekhan would be sent to watch over them as well given that he was one of the High King’s most trusted subordinates, but the Spiderlord was apparently too busy assisting with Azjol-Nerub’s war effort.

It’s a shame he isn’t here. I think I’d probably have an easier time getting along with Anub’rekhan than most of the Viziers…

It was likely Azjol-Nerub would have preferred to send even more personnel to the enclave, but there was a limit to what Dalaran would accept. If there were too many nerubians in the enclave, then they would eventually become an unacceptable security risk to the city. The only reason that they had actually been allowed to send so many Viziers was probably due to a combination of the ongoing war and the threat of Deathwing.

Dalaran’s nerubian enclave had now become the center of Azjol-Nerub’s efforts to combat the Void’s influence in the Eastern Kingdoms. Most of those efforts had been dedicated mostly to research for the first few months given that they needed to avoid attracting Deathwing’s attention, but circumstances had changed a few days ago

To be more specific, circumstances changed a few days ago when a massive wave of Void energy suddenly rippled over the Eastern Kingdoms.

Only those who were familiar with what the Void was knew what they were sensing, but even people who were magically insensitive reported feeling as if something horrible was going to happen. The feeling of an impending catastrophe had only gotten stronger since that moment, and Azjol-Nerub was working closely with Dalaran and the dragonflights to figure out what was going on.

Several Seers had attempted to look into the future in an attempt to gather information, but those who were lucky enough to not be driven insane had simply failed to learn anything definite. Everyone who was ‘in the know’ could tell that Deathwing was likely responsible for whatever was happening. The predominant belief was that Deathwing had probably managed to release some kind of ancient Void-corrupted monstrosity, but it seemed like nobody really knew for certain.

Despite his metaknowledge, Krivax was just as ignorant as everybody else. The original timeline had already diverted so completely that much of what he knew had become completely useless.

I guess hoping that the insane Void-corrupted dragon would’ve been content to just spend the past few months twiddling his thumbs was a bit too optimistic…

Daval Prestor had failed to do anything beyond what he was already doing, and everyone had started to hope that they would be able to find the Dragon Soul and confront him before he could put any of his plans into action. Unfortunately, it seemed like Deathwing was a few steps ahead of them and had managed to secretly pull something off under everyone’s collective noses.

It felt incredibly… unsettling to know that Deathwing might have released some kind of ancient horror due to the choices that he had made.

After taking a moment to banish his pessimistic thoughts, Krivax decided to focus on the things that he could actually do to help rather than worrying about things that he couldn’t change.

Once it had become clear that their Division wasn’t making any progress in learning more, Krivax had made a suggestion to everyone that they should perform one of the more complex divination rituals created by the Order of Kal’tut. The other Viziers would not normally listen to the opinions of someone as young as him, but Hadix had agreed with his suggestion and pushed for it as well.

They had already previously attempted to use this ritual to find the location of the Dragon Soul, but it had rather predictably failed to find anything. It was as if the Dragon Soul didn't exist in the first place as far as the magic was concerned.

There was no guarantee that the ritual would succeed this time around either, but everyone was starting to get desperate for information despite the obvious dangers of attempting to scry what was likely a powerful Void entity.

Krivax had wondered at first why Hadix hadn’t used this ritual during all of the other times that he had been investigating the Void, but it apparently could only be cast through the cooperation of several mages on top of a powerful leyline nexus. Those things had obviously not been available in the Eastern Kingdoms in the past, but circumstances had obviously changed. It sort of made Krivax glad that the Order had been exposed and that people were now being forced to cooperate openly.

Krivax was pulled out of his thoughts as he finally reached his destination. Previously, Krivax had been too busy with his diplomatic duties to participate in any rituals, so it was actually his first time seeing a nerubian ritual chamber.

The cavern that had been dug out for the chamber was several times larger than any other room that Krivax had seen in the enclave. Geometric and carefully placed webbing had been weaved throughout the entire cavern using magic conducting silk, making the whole thing appear like it was some kind of… three-dimensional arcane diagram to Krivax’s senses.

There were also four glowing obelisks in each corner of the room that were being suspended in the air through a combination of webbing and thin spars that looked similar to spider legs. Using his magical senses, Krivax could tell that the obelisks were drawing arcane energy from Dalaran’s leyline nexus and directing it into the ritual… web.

Krivax looked up to the roof of the cavern and saw several Viziers making minute adjustments to the web.

After taking a moment to look around, Krivax spotted Hadix directing a few of the Viziers on the other side of the cavern. As one of the strongest members of the Order and the only one who had any experience with the Eastern Kingdoms, it was unsurprising that Hadix had taken up a leadership role in the new Division.

Hadix called him over the moment that he spotted Krivax, “Vizier Krivax, your assistance in spinning the ritual weave would be appreciated over in this section.”

Krivax quickly skittered his way onto the webs and began heading in Hadix’s direction, using his magical senses to study the ritual weave the entire time. While the ritual weave in its entirety was beyond his ability to understand, nerubians generally tried to develop their rituals to be as logical and modular as possible.

The ritual weave was carefully spun with plenty of spaces within it where different weavings could be added or removed depending on the goal of the ritual without interfering with the base formation.

“Vizier Krivax, I would like for you to take over for these fools in spinning these portions of the arcane modulation weaving,” said Hadix, glancing disdainfully at the two Viziers who he had been directing. “The two of you can go wait quietly for the ritual to begin. I don’t want to waste any more time fixing your tedious mistakes.”

Krivax glanced at the section that Hadix was referring to and found it to be rather… simple?

Did they really have problems with this?

One of the Viziers, whose name Krivax hadn’t actually learned, immediately took insult to Hadix’s words, “Vizier Hadix, you can’t possibly be serious! Are you truly going to replace us with this… hatchling?!”

“I trust this ‘hatchling’ to correctly spin the weave more than I do you,” Hadix said dismissively. “While you two have spent the past century allowing your skills to deteriorate to an embarrassing degree while you played politics, Vizier Krivax has been constantly improving his skills with consistent determination. I’ll listen to your complaints once you remember how to properly cast magic.”

The pair of Viziers looked like they were about to argue, but a single caustic glare from Hadix sent them both storming off while silently fuming.

“Vizier Hadix… are you sure about this?” Krivax asked with trepidation. “I’m sure that those Viziers must be a lot older than me. Shouldn’t they be better at this kind of magic than I am?”

Hadix snorted in amusement before answering. “What you’ve failed to take into consideration is that there were many members of the Order who were recruited for reasons other than their magical ability. Those two have spent most of their lives as administrators, and the only magic that they consistently cast is likely a few cleaning spells.”

Krivax hadn’t actually taken that into account, but he still found their inability difficult to believe. As someone who wasn’t really only six years old, he could actually conceptualize how much more life experience people who lived for centuries had compared to him. Had they really failed to pick up any magic at all in that time?

When he brought up his doubts to his mentor, the older Vizier actually had an explanation that Krivax had never considered before.

“While the higher castes are given a significantly longer lifespan than most nerubians, our ability to retain memories is not increased to a proportional degree,” Hadix patiently explained. "Even we Viziers, though shaped for intelligence and problem-solving, lack perfect recall. It's a trait the Queens have yet to consistently apply."

Krivax was kind of surprised that he had never thought of that, and it seemed obvious to him in hindsight. Although he had noticed an improvement in his intelligence after being transformed into a Vizier, that improvement was actually relatively minor.

Magic wasn’t like a video game, where once you learned a new spell you were guaranteed to be able to cast it for the rest of your life. Expecting a Vizier to successfully cast a spell that he hadn’t used in centuries was kind of like expecting someone to be proficient in the calculus skills that they learned in high school after decades of never finding a use for it.

“Do not misunderstand, Krivax. Those who have lived for a long time still hold a significant advantage over those with less experience,” said Hadix, his words becoming cautionary. “There are spells that can assist a mage in retrieving memories, and consistent use of arcane magic has a tendency to increase intelligence and recall. Even the most untalented of mages can become formidable if they consistently work to improve themselves for centuries.”

Krivax had no doubt that was the case…

After finishing his impromptu lecture, Hadix once again instructed Krivax to begin working on the weaving and then left to go oversee the work of the other Viziers. The work was relatively straightforward, and Krivax even lost himself to his work until he suddenly realized that the ritual was almost ready to begin.

Krivax watched as the Viziers took up specific positions throughout the cavern and began preparing themselves and nervously moved to do the same. Hadix had already explained how things would work, and most of them would simply be providing their own power to the ritual while also helping to properly guide the magic. There were only a few who would be doing the actual work of casting the divination ritual.

Specifically, the difficult portions would be handled by a Seer in the center of the ritual weave as well as a few of the more experienced Viziers, which naturally included Hadix.

“If everyone is prepared and has taken their positions, then I will begin the ritual,” called out the Seer in the center of the weave. Krivax could feel his anxiety growing by the moment now that the ritual was actually about to begin. “The purpose of this ritual is to divine information about the surge in Void energy that has been slowly growing over the past month. While these are not our lands, the Void is a threat to all nerubians, and this new threat must be handled for the safety of our people. I expect you all to do everything that you can to ensure this ritual is successful.”

With his speech concluded, the Seer didn’t hesitate to begin the ritual. Every Vizier in the room, including Krivax, immediately started channeling their magic into the weave, causing the entire cavern to light up with a violet glow. Although Krivax wasn’t able to understand what spells the more experienced Viziers near the center were casting, he could tell that they were extremely complex divination spells. The Seer looked as if he was just staring off into space, but Krivax could sense waves of intense magical energy flowing from him.

This process went on for several minutes until Krivax suddenly noticed inexplicable images forming in his mind, much to his surprise. He had already been informed that something like this would happen and that it was simply a sign of the ritual working, so Krivax only panicked a little. The ritual was designed to show scenes of the past, present, and future of their void corrupted target, and although the vast majority of those scenes would be directed toward the Seer, every mage participating in the ritual would occasionally see a few as well.

It made Krivax sort of glad that he wasn’t actually a Seer because he couldn’t imagine the training that they would have to go through to handle being bombarded with so much information.

Krivax tried to focus on them, but the images flashed by too quickly for him to accurately interpret any of them. As the ritual progressed, however, they began to appear with more frequency and stay around for much longer.

“Be warned. We approach the most dangerous portion of the ritual,” the Seer called out, pulling Krivax away from his thoughts. “The entity whose nature we are attempting to divine has noticed our efforts and is beginning to probe our defenses…”

Sure enough, Krivax felt his heart drop as he saw several portions of the ritual weave growing dark with the Void. According to Hadix, this was one of the primary reasons that the Order rarely chose to use these kinds of rituals. Large portions of the weave were dedicated purely to intercepting any incoming attacks and preventing the ritual from being interrupted.

Krivax could sense the incoming images growing in frequency and clarity, all the while something on the other side was gradually increasing the strength of its attacks. He distantly noted that the chamber was beginning to grow darker due to the increasing presence of the Void. Krivax could feel a malevolent gaze settle over him and the other Viziers, and he knew without a doubt that whatever they were looking for was now looking back at them.

Thankfully, it seemed like their defenses were powerful enough to hold it back for now.

After a few more minutes of this, the images being produced by the ritual became clear enough that even Krivax was able to understand a little of what he was seeing.

He almost immediately wished that wasn’t the case.

Almost immediately, Krivax felt like someone was trying to push a knife into his brain and he was forced to look away. He wasn’t able to make out much in that short moment but he could tell that their target was large, and it had been involved in some kind of war. It was also incredibly powerful and felt as if it had been made from the Void itself. Krivax could tell from the expressions of the other Viziers that they were having similar difficulties.

What the hell has Deathwing unleashed?

Just as he finished strengthening his mental shields and was preparing himself to look again, Krivax was interrupted as the ritual suddenly ended.

The source of the problem was obvious once he looked to the center of the ritual weave and saw the Seer convulsing on the web with streams of blood pouring from his orifices. Although he wasn’t particularly surprised, the macabre scene didn’t fail to fill Krivax with an intense feeling of dread. Once he realized how powerful their target was, he knew that they had gotten in over their heads and things were going to go incredibly wrong. Krivax had almost expected the walls to start sprouting tentacles and for mind-destroying terrors to pop out of thin air.

The chamber turned into a flurry of movement as soon as everyone realized what had happened and started implementing their contingency plans. The Seer was swiftly taken away to see Queen Kithix in order to receive medical attention, but Hadix doubted that there was much that could be done to help them. According to him, it was likely that the Seer’s mind had already been destroyed long before they started convulsing.

Almost immediately after the Seer was taken away, the participating Viziers gathered together and shared what they saw during the ritual in hopes that they could put together a coherent picture while memories were still fresh. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that their efforts wouldn’t be producing many useful results. The vast majority of the visions had been directed to the Seer, who obviously couldn’t provide his testimony. There weren’t very many people who saw more than Krivax had, and they could barely agree on what they had seen. Many people reported that they had seen a large number of trolls, but that didn’t really tell them anything.

After nearly an hour of frustrated arguments, it was decided that the ritual had mostly been a failure. They had all but confirmed that the source of the increased Void energy was some kind of massive monstrosity, but they didn’t really learn anything else. Krivax tried to rack his brain for any useful metaknowledge, but the details were still far too vague for him to work with.

Maybe I should find a way to get my hands on another memory elixir. They’re really expensive though, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get anything out of it anyway…

As Krivax left the ritual chamber and began making his way to his room, he found himself feeling more terrified and uncertain about the future than he had felt in a long time.

Krivax dreaded to consider what someone like Deathwing could achieve with enough time now that he no longer cared about subtlety. He desperately hoped that the changes that he had made to the timeline wouldn’t end up causing more people to die. Krivax had known from the moment that he had made the conscious choice to change things that it was possible for history to turn out worse, but everything had sort of turned out mostly fine for him up until this point.

The longer that Deathwing was allowed to roam free, the worse things would get for everyone…

Malygos sneered in disgust as he examined the orc in front of him. The creature was sitting in front of a campfire and cooking some manner of bird while speaking to another one of its kind. Although Malygos had primarily infiltrated the Horde with the intention of finding the Dragon Soul, another one of his goals was to verify some of the information in the letter sent to Krasus.

The letter claimed that the Horde were pawns of the Burning Legion, and Malygos could conclusively determine that to be true. He likely wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it specifically, but he had plenty of experience with detecting Fel magic, and every single orc that he had examined possessed significant amounts of it in their system. Such high concentrations of Fel were probably the source of the unnatural strength and resilience of the orcs, as well as their extreme aggression.

It may even be the source of their green skin.

Malygos found his mind wandering to the information provided in the letter given to Krasus. Whoever had written it had only given a very general overview of the Horde’s history, and what had driven them from their world.

Apparently, an orc by the name of Gul’dan had sold himself into the service of the Burning Legion and betrayed his people. He then launched a campaign of careful manipulation to spread the Burning Legion’s demonic magic and turn his people into bloodthirsty monsters. The orc’s homeworld was now almost completely ruined by Fel magic, and they were now invading Azeroth in hopes of establishing a home to replace the one that they ruined.

There was obviously much that the letter’s author had failed to mention in their explanation, but it was still valuable information and Malygos suddenly found himself curious about their identity.

The writer had been decently competent in hiding their traces, but hiding from anything as powerful as an Aspect was not a simple endeavor by any means.

Malygos had no doubt that Nozdormu had simply traveled to the past and secretly watched the author write the letter with his own eyes while looking over their shoulder.

Personally, Malygos thought that it was most likely one of Deathwing’s spawn who had sent the letter. Not out of any sense of moral goodness like his siblings might think, but because his fallen brother’s spawn were as power-hungry and treacherous as Deathwing himself, so one of them would take every chance they could to undermine him for their own ambitions.

Traitorous scum…

Unfortunately, Nozdormu had been more firm than usual when he insisted that nobody search for the letter’s author, at least for a few more months. They apparently needed to remain undisturbed until then for something important to the fate of Azeroth to take place. Malygos wasn’t one to blindly listen to Nozdormu’s words, especially when he knew that his brother was far from omniscient, but it was only a few more months and he knew the Aspect of Time was right more often than not.

Malygos turned his attention back to his current object and began making his way through the orc camp in the direction of the Twilight Hammer Clan, completely unseen to the camp's inhabitants. Currently, they were camped nearby Zul’Aman, and Malygos had learned through searching the minds of a few orcs that they were relatively isolated from the rest of the Horde.

That didn’t surprise him. Despite being equally malevolent, those who served the Burning Legion and those who worshiped the Old Gods rarely cooperated with one another.

The Twilight Hammer Clan was assisting with the Horde’s ongoing assault on Quel’Thalas and was stationed relatively close to the front lines.

Malygos, however, found it difficult to care about any of this when he knew that the war would be ended as soon as the Dragon Soul was no longer a factor. The Dragonflights would not normally interfere with a mortal war, but there were too many greater forces involved in this conflict for them to ignore it.

It wasn’t long before Malygos could sense the presence of the Void begin to increase as he approached his destination. He also started to notice several feral-looking orcs with pale skin walking aimlessly through the camp. Where the green-skinned orcs were full of Fel energy, these paler ones showed clear signs of being corrupted by the Void.

After another few minutes of walking, Malygos spotted the emblem of the Twilight Hammer Clan crudely painted onto what appeared to be a flag made of leather. Malygos felt a wave of disgust as looked at the thing; he was experienced enough to distinguish between the leather of an animal and the leather of a mortal.

Having found his target, Malygos strengthened the magic hiding his presence and walked into the camp of the Twilight Hammer Clan with a greater degree of caution. Neltharion was many things, but he was not an idiot. Malygos had no doubt that if the Dragon Soul was truly in the Twilight Hammer Clan’s possession, then it would be extremely well-protected.

Malygos fully understood the risk that he was taking, and the catastrophic consequences that would occur if he was captured. Just because he had decided to take that risk didn’t mean that he would do so without caution. He’d sooner kill himself and obliterate the entire Horde in an arcane explosion rather than give Neltharion the satisfaction of placing chains around his neck.

Of course, it would be far sweeter to end Neltharion’s life with his own claws. Malygos wanted to watch the despair in his eyes as he saw all his plans and ambitions burn before him.

Malygos shuddered in barely suppressed glee at the thought and forced himself to focus on his current task. He began to thoroughly search the camp for any sign of the Dragon Soul, while also keeping an eye out for the clan’s chieftain. Unfortunately, the pale orcs hardly ever spoke and Malygos did not wish to risk searching through the minds of the Void corrupted creatures.

Doing so would almost guarantee his exposure.

It was thanks to the camp's nearly complete silence that Malygos found his attention being drawn when he heard somebody speaking. They were talking in the native language of the orcs, but it had taken Malygos a mere few seconds to learn the language after ripping it from the mind of an isolated orc scout.

“Cho’gall! When is your disgusting little book going to provide us with more dragon corpses? Those damned gryphon-riding dwarves are slaughtering my warriors! I need more dragons!

“Soon, Warchief. Soon. The great master was silent for a time, but they have now returned. The Twilight Canticle will lead the Horde to new dragon corpses soon.”

“Pray that it does, Cho’gall. My patience with you is nearly at an end.”

Malygos watched as a large greenskin orc stormed out of a large tent with a furious expression. A distant part of his mind recognized the orc as the leader of the Horde, but most of Malygos’ attention was directed toward the tent rather than the irrelevant mortal.

Cho’gall was the name of Twilight Hammer Clan’s leader, and he was also the mortal who was most likely to be in possession of the Dragon Soul. After waiting a few moments to see whether or not Cho’gall would exit the tent, Malygos decided to go inside himself. The nature of his invisibility spell made it rather complicated to cast a silent teleportation spell and he didn’t want to draw attention by disturbing the tent flap, so Malygos instead cast a spell that turned his body intangible and simply walked inside.

It only took a single look at Cho’gall for Malygos to be certain that the creature was one of Deathwing’s minions. Nobody aside from the Old Gods themselves would have been able to so thoroughly empower the ogre with the Void. Malygos had seen a few other examples of two-headed ogres during his walk through the Horde camps, but none of them quite looked like Cho’gall.

Not only did the mortal have several black spikes growing all along his body, but there were also multiple large eyes growing across his bare chest. It was a rather extreme example of Void corruption, and Malygos found himself surprised that the ogre was still moderately coherent.

He was so engrossed in studying the ogre that Malygos failed to notice the female orc until she spoke. Once she did speak, however, any thought of studying the mortal was banished from his mind and his undivided attention turned to her.

“You did well placating the orc, Cho’gall,” said the female orc. “Father will be pleased to hear of your continued competence.”

A black dragon! And she’s one of Neltarion’s spawn!

Malygos could feel the world shrink to just him and the black dragon in front of him. He completely ignored whatever response came from the ogre as he imagined himself killing Neltharion’s child, just as his family was killed in front of him. Malygos didn’t know whether or not the creature that was once his brother would even truly care if he did, but the call for vengeance nearly consumed all rational thought.

It would be so easy…

While Neltharion’s children were all fairly powerful in their own right, Malygos had the advantage of surprise and he was much larger than they were. It would only take him a moment to reveal his true form and end her.

Kill her. Let Neltharion feel the pain of losing his daughter.

As Malygos pushed through the bloodlust and tried his best to rationally consider his options, he noticed that two more male orcs had entered the conversation. Most likely more of Neltharion’s spawn.

Malygos tried to focus on what they were saying, but he felt like his mind was in a fog and every thought led back to violence.

Kill them all. Take your revenge!

As had recently become a force of habit, Malygos subconsciously cast a spell on his mind to check for the Void and was shocked out of his murderous thoughts when the spell confirmed that he was being influenced.

No! I refuse to follow in Neltharion’s footsteps!

Malygos used all the willpower he possessed to pull himself back together and push away any thoughts of killing the black dragons in his midst. If he revealed himself in a mad attempt to kill Neltharion’s children, then it was incredibly likely that he would have found himself at the mercy of the Dragon Soul.

Malygos already knew that it must be here. There was no other reason for so many of Neltharion’s children to be present unless they had been ordered to protect it.

His theory was eventually confirmed after spending a few minutes listening to their conversation.

“Have you made progress in controlling the artifact, Cho’gall?” said the smaller of the male orcs.

Malygos wasn’t familiar enough with Nelharion’s recent children to recognize him.

“Of course. I’m grateful for the honor that the great master has bestowed upon me by giving me such a sacred duty!”

“Hmph. So long as you understand your place, mortal. You will not like the consequences if you attempt to use it against your betters,” said the larger orc.

A part of Malygos wanted to stay and see where in the camp they were keeping the Dragon Soul with his own eyes, but he knew that it would be too dangerous. His objective had already been completed, and it would be better to leave before anything unexpected occurred. He had gotten everything that he needed to finally achieve his vengeance against Neltharion, and he wouldn’t allow his own recklessness to ruin everything.

As Malygos made his way out of the camp and felt the Void eating away at the spell keeping him hidden all the while, he knew that he had made the correct decision. Once he found a relatively isolated location, Malygos immediately cast a spell to teleport himself away so that he could bring the news to his siblings.

Now that the location of the Dragon Soul had been found, the time had come for them to finally launch their assault on Deathwing. The only thing that was left to do was organize the mortals and plan the attack.

And finally, this would all end.

Chapter Text

ax could feel his heart racing as he and Masruk made their way as quickly as they could from Capital City to Dalaran. There were several human travelers on the road who screamed and panicked at the sight of two giant spider people running past them, but Krivax ignored them.

Of all the times for them to find the Dragon Soul, it just had to be on the day I’d be away from Dalaran!

Ever since the failure of the ritual, Krivax had been trying his best to figure out the identity of the Void creature released by Deathwing. Plenty of people more capable than himself were already investigating, of course, but none of them had the advantage of metaknowledge. The only problem was that he had no real way of remembering such obscure lore after so many years, and getting his hands on an elixir that could help him recall such old memories wasn’t exactly easy.

Instead, Krivax had just decided to look into any Old God affiliated forces in the Eastern Kingdoms to see if he could jog his memory, from Raganros and his Dark Iron dwarf servants to any reported sightings of Naga. After failing to achieve any results, Krivax eventually decided to head on over to Capital City and see what he could learn from the Explorers’ League. Given that Azjol-Nerub had every intention of developing relations with Ironforge and Gnomeregan after the war, getting permission for his trip had been a fairly simple matter.

The Explorers’ League had also been more than willing to help, especially after Azjol-Nerub shared several important documents containing information about obscure sightings of the iron dwarfs and Frostborn in Northrend. Considering what Malygos had already told everyone, Krivax had no doubt that historians across the Eastern Kingdoms would be obsessing over all the information that had come out recently.

While the Explorers' League lacked access to the majority of their documents as they were currently being held in Ironforge, they still had many subject matter experts who were able to assist Krivax. He had spent hours going over several subjects, but it was only when he began to read old legends about Tirisfal that Krivax felt like he was close to remembering something important.

Unfortunately, Masruk had chosen that exact moment to inform him that the Council of Six was calling for an emergency meeting. The location of the Dragon Soul had apparently been found and everyone who had been informed of the situation was headed back to Dalaran so they could begin planning the assault on Deathwing.

Krivax was really glad that Dalaran and Capital City were built so close to one another because he really didn’t want to keep a room filled with some of the most powerful people in the world waiting.

After using his diplomatic credentials to quickly pass through security, Krivax and Masruk both slowed down a bit to catch their breath as they made their way to the Violet Citadel. Someone must have sent word ahead that he would be coming because the receptionist quickly let him through and a few tense guards escorted the two of them to the portal leading to the Chamber of Air.

Krivax wasn’t surprised that the guards were tense; if the Dragon Soul had really been found and everyone was meeting to plan the attack on Deathwing, then the Chamber of Air was probably busier today than at almost any time in Dalaran’s history. Not only would the entire Council of Six be in attendance, but also several more Archmages as well as many Viziers.

It wouldn’t be long before rumors started spreading that something significant was happening in Dalaran.

“This is as far as I will go,” said Masruk once they reached the portal. “I’ve received instructions from the Division to go to a heavily warded building near the Violet Hold and wait with the Dread Stalkers for further orders. I don’t know what exactly they have planned, but it feels like they intend for things to happen quickly and I need to meet with them soon.”

Krivax felt like that was likely to be the case. Now that they had found the Dragon Soul, it was important that they act swiftly and discreetly in order to minimize the possibility that Deathwing’s agents would catch wind of something and inform him.

“I understand,” said Krivax, nodding to his closest friend. “We’ll probably get the chance to speak again before everything starts, but if we don’t, just… be sure to take care of yourself, Masruk.”

Hadix had made it explicitly clear that Krivax was more than likely going to be participating in whatever plan they came up with. His mastery of magic had reached a point where Krivax wouldn’t make himself a hindrance, and this was important enough that everyone involved would be expected to help. If Masruk was going with the Dread Stalkers, then there was no doubt that he would also be fighting.

It was very likely that the two of them were both approaching the most dangerous moment of their lives.

“I will,” Masruk said solemnly. “You take care of yourself as well, Krivax.”

Krivax watched Masruk leave until he disappeared around the staircase leading to the Violet Citadel’s exit. After taking a moment to pull himself together and calm down, Krivax stepped through the portal and entered the Chamber of Air.

It took a few seconds for him to shake off the typical disorientation that came with teleportation and take a look around the room. Krivax almost immediately froze once he realized that he had become the center of attention of everyone present, but that thankfully didn’t last for very long.

After all, everyone seemed to be much more interested in listening to Alexstrasza and Malygos, both in mortal form, yelling at each other in the center of the room than in paying attention to a random Vizier who just arrived.

The other two Aspects were also wearing their mortal forms as they stood to the side. Ysera quietly stared at Malygos with a judgemental expression on her face while Nozdormu simply took everything in with a serene smile.

Krivax felt a shudder go through his body as Nozdormu seemed to study him longer than everyone else, but the moment passed once the Aspect of Time eventually turned his attention back to the argument.

“I don’t understand why you can’t acknowledge that your actions were completely and utterly irresponsible, Malygos!”

“Did I not succeed in finding the Dragon Soul? You should be thanking me, Alexstrasza. We couldn’t afford to wait for whatever half-hearted measures you would have eventually decided on.”

“And what if you hadn’t succeeded, brother?” asked Alexstrasza, her voice filled with exasperation. “Are you truly so willing to risk the fate of Azeroth for your vengeance? If something had happened to you while you were searching for the Dragon Soul, then there’s little that we could have done to save you!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to take such risks if you had simply agreed with my initial proposal,” said Malygos, glaring at his fellow Aspect. “It was your soft-heartedness that made this necessary!”

Krivax felt distinctly like he was watching something that he shouldn’t be and discreetly made his way over to where the few nerubians participating in the meeting were gathered. Aside from Vizier Hadix, Vizier Crinis, and Anub’rekhan, there were a few other vaguely familiar members of the Division.

Azjol-Nerub was taking the Deathwing situation very seriously and had sent a few of its most combat-capable Viziers to assist Dalaran’s Archmages in securing the Dragon Soul.

“Have I missed anything important?” Krivax quietly asked Hadix as soon as he was in speaking range. “What are they arguing about?”

“From what I’ve been able to gather, Malygos apparently decided to go find the Dragon Soul himself without informing anyone,” Hadix drawled, not pulling his eyes away from the arguing dragons. “They’ve been yelling at each other for nearly half an hour, but nobody wants to be the one to interrupt them.”

After Malygos’ last meeting with the Council of Six, Krivax wasn’t surprised that nobody wanted to do anything that might set the mad dragon off.

Seeing as the meeting had yet to truly begin, he decided to use the opportunity to look around and take note of who would be participating. After taking a quick glance around the chamber, Krivax saw that every member of the Council of Six was already present, as well as three humans and an elf, none of whom Krivax recognized.

The humans must be the other Archmages that Antonidas mentioned would be joining in the attack, Krivax mused to himself. The elf is probably Prince Kael’thas’ right-hand man, Magister Rommath.

It was a shame that Quel’thalas apparently hadn’t sent anyone else, but given that the Horde had recently forced the elves to activate the impenetrable shield that protected Silvermoon, it was to be expected. King Anasterian probably couldn’t afford to send out his most important mages right now.

After he finished looking over the mages provided by Dalaran, Krivax turned his attention to the dragons.

So that’s what a night elf looks like…

Logically, Krivax would have expected the Aspects to take on forms most similar to the night elves given that they were the oldest variety of elves and were much longer lived than trolls, but most of them actually looked similar to the high elves of Quel'Thalas. Ysera, however, chose to take on a tall, horned, muscled form that was based on her most ardent followers, the night elves of Kalimdor.

I’m pretty sure most night elves don’t actually have horns, Krivax thought to himself as he took in Ysera’s form.

Krivax quickly glanced at Hadix before turning his attention back to the dragons. He had no doubt that everyone had noticed the discrepancy and was forming their own theories. After all, the elves of Kalimdor looked significantly different than Krivax had expected from their cousins in the Eastern Kingdoms.

Although he would never say it to their faces, Krivax could immediately believe that the night elves had evolved from trolls. Aside from their purplish skin tone which was fairly similar to that of many troll tribes, the night elves were also significantly taller and appeared more muscular than both humans and high elves.

Krivax really hoped that Azjol-Nerub would establish good relations with the night elves when they sent an expedition to Kalimdor. He really didn’t want to fight an army of muscular seven-foot-tall Amazonians.

Nozdormu’s appearance was simpler in comparison, as he just looked like a high elf. Krivax wasn’t sure who the male elves standing beside Ysera and Alexstrasza were, but they were most likely their various consorts.

“Enough, Alexstrasza. If you must continue berating me for something that has already been done, then do it when we are alone,” said Malygos, looking thoroughly frustrated with the situation. “There’s no need to continue putting on such a display in front of the mortals. We have more important things to be discussing.”

“Very well, Malygos. But this discussion isn’t over,” said Alexstrasza, much to the relief of everyone in the chamber.

Finally…

“Good,” said Malygos as he turned his attention back to the rest of the chamber. “I can see that everyone has already arrived, so I think it's about time that we began. Time is of the essence, and we will need to move quickly if we wish to minimize risks to our plan.”

“I agree,” said Alexestrasza, still sounding faintly exasperated. Krivax could feel the tension in the room increase as everyone realized that they were finally about to get to the matter at hand. “For those of you who are not aware, the Dragon Soul was recently found to be in the possession of the chieftain of the Twilight Hammer Clan, the two-headed ogre known as Cho’gall.”

“The Twilight Hammer… they are the ones who have been using shadow magic to attack my people, correct?” Prince Kael’thas asked solemnly.

“That’s correct, elf,” said Malygos, conjuring an image of Cho’gall with a wave of his hand. “Their leader is a two-headed ogre whom Neltharion has apparently empowered with the Void. He will not be easily killed by you mortals, especially with several black dragons guarding both him and the Dragon Soul. However, I believe that our current plans have a good chance of succeeding.”

“Although there were many details that couldn’t be finalized until we found the Dragon Soul, we’ve been planning for this assault from the moment that we became aware of the situation,” said Krasus, his tone polite as he spoke to his secret superior and mate. “I believe that it would be best to go over our general plan for those who are unaware of it before moving on to specifics, Queen Alexstrasza.”

“That sounds wise, Archmage Krasus,” said Alexstrasza, sounding equally as polite. Krivax stifled a chuckle as he watched the two lovers act as if they had never met before. “Our attack will happen simultaneously in two different locations. My fellow Aspects, consorts, and I will be attacking Deathwing in his mortal guise of Daval Prestor. According to reports, he should currently be in his manor located in northern Lordaeron.”

“I assume that you wish to attack him at the same time that we are securing the Dragon Soul so that he cannot intervene?” asked Hadix.

“That is one reason, but there is also another,” said Alexstrasza. “When Neltharion created the Dragon Soul he did so in such a way that made sure it could never be used against him, but Malygos was able to discover while studying it shortly after its creation that doing so created an unintentional vulnerability. Our goal is to use the fight to acquire a fragment of his body and then transport it to your location so that you are able to destroy the Dragon Soul once and for all. Once that has been done, then our full power will be restored to us and we will be more than capable of defeating him.”

“And putting an end to him once and for all,” Malygos added darkly, his expression becoming murderous.

“Your ‘full power’?” Kel’thuzad asked curiously.

Krivax suddenly began having flashbacks to the last time that Kel’Thuzad was asking dangerous questions with a murderous Malygos in the room. Thankfully, Alexsterasza seemed to have expected the question and merely nodded before responding.

“As I’m sure my brother has told you, Deathwing was once one of us, but his duties… proved too much for him to bear and he was corrupted by the Old Gods,” said Alexstrasza, her voice filled with sorrow and regret. “Before we learned of this, he created the Dragon Soul and claimed it was a tool to help us better do our duties, asking for a portion of our power each to empower it. Because of this, we are much weaker than we once were and thus it would be difficult for us to defeat him, even working together.”

Krivax didn’t need his metaknowledge to know that Alexstrasza was leaving a lot out from her explanation, and he was certain that he wasn’t the only one. After all, why would the Aspects think that an anti-dragon artifact would help them better do their duties? However, nobody was interested in questioning the Dragon Queen about an obviously sensitive matter and the discussion quickly moved back to planning the assault.

Although the portion of the plan involving Deathwing was relatively straightforward, the same couldn’t be said for those who would be going after the Dragon Soul. Not only would they need to successfully take it from a Void-empowered Cho’gall and multiple extremely powerful black dragons, but they would also need to survive long enough for a fragment of Deathwing to be transported to them. Neither of those objectives would be easy, especially since the battle would be taking place deep behind enemy lines.

“If we wish to be able to transport a fragment of Deathwing as quickly as possible, then we will likely need to establish a portal connection between the two battles,” Malygos said once they started discussing logistics. Krivax had a feeling that the dragon had been thinking of solutions for this problem for quite a while. “However, it would be too dangerous for the portals to lead directly between each location, otherwise we risk our enemies exploiting the opportunity to take the Dragon Soul to the Aspects. A better course of action would be to establish two separate portals to a heavily guarded location and have one of the consorts transport the fragment as quickly as possible.”

Krivax considered it and found that the plan made sense. Having the portals lead to a heavily guarded location would prevent Cho’gall from running through with the Dragon Soul and causing problems, and having a consort transport the fragment meant that the Aspects wouldn’t need to.

There was only one real issue with the plan that Krivax could see.

“While I’m certain that creating a portal between the battlefield and Dalaran would be an extremely simple matter for you, I’m afraid we mere mortals are not quite so skilled,” said Hadix, saying what was on everyone’s mind.

Unless you happened to be the Aspect of Magic, creating a portal would normally take a significant amount of time and required the mage to be able to ‘lock on’ to the intended location. This could be done by either working with another mage or by targeting a pre-established location that had been clearly marked with special wards.

While Malygos could probably instantly create a portal from his location to the heavily guarded location, the Dragon Soul retrieval team would need a decent amount of time to accomplish the same thing.

“You mortals will simply have to manage if you wish to have any hope of saving this world,” Malygos said with an annoyed expression. “Whichever mortal is assigned to create the portal will need to be protected long enough to succeed in doing so, all while several black dragons as well as waves of Void-corrupted orcs are trying to kill them. I understand that this won’t be an easy endeavor, but you should have already known that to be the case before you came here.”

The room fell quiet at the Malygos’ words, but it wasn’t long before Krivax could see a wave of determination fill everyone present. Although they all valued vastly different things, Deathwing was an existential threat to everything they held dear. Since that was the case, there was nothing that they could do other than fight with everything they had to put an end to him.

Malygos must have liked what he saw because he nodded with a satisfied look on his face before continuing. “Good. Now that you mortals have gotten over your useless complaints, let us discuss the actual details of the attack. The forces protecting the Dragon Soul are considerable, so the battlefield will need to be tilted as much as possible in your favor.”

The next twenty minutes of the discussion were dedicated to planning on how they would actually get their people to the Twilight Hammer Clan without having to fight the entire Horde. Several plans were proposed, from simply having everyone walk there from the Alliance camps under a giant invisibility spell to having the Blue Dragonflight provide everyone with flying carpets from their vault.

“The Horde has yet to show that they have any way to effectively detect the tunnels and the underground tunnels would be a defensible position from which the assault team can create the portal,” Anub’rekhan proposed. “There are few races in Azeroth more deadly than nerubians when fighting in tunnels.”

Although Cho’gall or the black dragons would almost certainly detect the portal and figure out what was going on as soon as they actually started to create it, the assault team would have ample time to lay traps beforehand in the tunnels.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was led to believe that these black dragons have some manner of control over the earth,” said Archmage Modera, her voice filled with skepticism.

“They do,” Malygos quickly confirmed. “Although they’ve rarely used those abilities since they became corrupted, according to what I’ve been told by members of my Flight.”

Hadix scoffed disdainfully before responding, “Our kingdom wouldn’t have lasted as long as it has if we couldn’t prevent any random quake or upset geomancer from collapsing our tunnels and cities. If our protections were strong enough for us to survive the Sundering, then I think we can protect ourselves against the geomancy of a few dragons.”

“If you’re so confident, mortal, then show me,” said Malygos.

Hadix immediately cast a rather efficient and effective geomantic ward which quickly spread through the ground. The ward was one of the first spells that Krivax had learned once Hadix decided to teach him geomancy. Given their living environment, it wasn’t a surprise that nerubians placed such importance on safety when learning such magic.

After a few moments of evaluation, Malygos nodded and gave his approval, “It wouldn’t last more than a few minutes against Neltharion, but it should be sufficient to protect against his spawn, especially if they are under attack.”

After confirming that it was safe, it wasn’t long before everyone agreed to Anub’rekhan’s suggestion.

Once they settled on how they would get there, the discussion moved on to assigning duties to each member of the assault team. Anub’rekhan would obviously attract the attention of the largest dragon that he could find and trade blows with them, but it wasn’t so clear what everyone else would be doing.

After spending another twenty minutes arguing, they eventually reached an agreement on the best way to handle things. Vizier Crinis would be the one to open the portal, as she had significant experience with spatial magic while also being relatively inexperienced when it came to combat. The most powerful individuals would be assigned exclusively to fighting off the most dangerous threats, which were most likely Cho’gall and Deathwing’s children. This elite group included Anub’rekhan, Antonidas, Prince Kael’thas, Kel’Thuzad, and Hadix.

Given that they didn’t know how much danger Crinis would be in, most of the other Archmages and Viziers would be moving freely between defending her and assisting in dealing with Cho’gall and the dragons.

The least experienced and the weakest members of the team would be exclusively assigned to protecting Crinis, which included Krivax and the squad of Dread Stalkers they brought along with them. Krivax was honestly glad to hear it because he had no doubt that he would probably end up dying in seconds if Onyxia or Cho’gall turned their attention on him.

“I’m not sure if this has been addressed, but do we have any plans on how to deal with whatever Void creature was released by Deathwing?” asked Krivax, forcing himself not to flinch when every eye in the room turned to him. “If he can control it, then it seems likely that he’ll send it to start causing problems once we attack him.”

Krivax didn’t actually know how likely that was, but it seemed like something that would happen once everyone ran off to fight the ‘big bad.’

“We have indeed thought of that, Vizier Krivax, which is why I will be staying in Dalaran,” said Krasus. Krivax hoped that was true, and that the secret dragon wasn’t just going to follow the Aspects as soon as everyone left. “I will be here to handle any potential emergencies that might occur.”

With his concerns addressed, Krivax stepped back and everyone’s attention turned to Kel’Thuzad who had stepped forward.

“This is all well and good, but what are we to do if one or both of our attacks fail?” asked Kel’Thuzad, instantly bringing down the mood of the room. “If Deathwing is as powerful as you say, then it's very possible that you might fail to acquire a fragment of his body. It’s also quite possible that Vizier Crinis will be killed before she can successfully create a portal to Dalaran. With the stakes being as high as they are, we must create contingencies in case of our failure.”

Nobody liked thinking about their possible failure, but Kel’Thuzad was undoubtedly correct. Failing to consider any potential plans for such scenarios would be extremely irresponsible of them.

“The details of any contingency will depend greatly on what exactly goes wrong,” said Alexstrasza after a moment of silence. “If we succeed in acquiring the Dragon Soul but fail in obtaining anything that can be used to destroy it, then that would be the simplest situation to handle. While Deathwing is quite powerful, he would eventually be worn down by the combined might of our Flights as long as he can not use the Dragon Soul to deal with us.”

“Although, I imagine we would all be dead in that situation,” Malygos said with a careless tone. “I have absolutely no intention of leaving without tearing off a piece of that traitor.”

“If events happen the other way around and we lack the Dragon Soul but have the fragment, then whoever has survived will simply need to regroup and try again,” Alexstrasza said grimly. Krivax had no doubt that not everyone would be coming back from this alive, but it felt much worse to hear that same sentiment coming from the Aspect of Life herself. “And if both our assaults are complete failures, then we can only hope that the people of Azeroth will rise to the challenge in our stead.”

Krivax could tell that wasn’t what anyone wanted to hear, but what else could be done? There was a lot riding on their success, and no amount of planning would be able to fix things if they failed completely.

“However, if we succeed in our mission, we can turn our attention to the other forces that threaten Azeroth,” said Alexstrasza, her expression firm as she swept her gaze through the room. “While my people rarely interfere in the matters of mortals, I swear to you that the Horde will no longer threaten your people once the Dragon Soul is no longer a concern. Not only will we owe you all a great debt for aiding us against Neltharion, but the Horde itself is being directed by malign powers wishing to weaken Azeroth. Our Flights will make certain that they are driven back to the Dark Portal and see this war is ended as soon as possible.”

The Dragon Queen’s promise quickly raised back the spirits of almost everyone. It was difficult to overstate how much damage the Second War already had done to the Eastern Kingdoms thus far, and everyone was eager to see it end.

With most of the major points already agreed upon, the rest of the meeting went relatively quickly. It wasn’t long after that before everyone began filing out of the Chamber of Air and Krivax and the assault team started making their way to the portals that would take them to the Alliance’s frontline. Given how quickly they needed to move and how far the jormungar needed to take them, it was decided that they would begin the assault as quickly as possible.

Most of the group took separate paths so that they would draw as little attention as possible, but Hadix insisted that the two of them walk to the portal room together. He only found out why once Hadix pulled him to the side and presented Krivax with a plain-looking bracelet that radiated potent arcane magic.

“A Vizier as young as yourself would not normally participate in a battle as dangerous as this one, but circumstances are not always as we would prefer,” said Hadix, handing the bracelet over to Krivax. “This artifact is enchanted with a variety of potent defensive spells that should hopefully keep you alive. Use it wisely, apprentice.”

As Krivax put the bracelet on one of his lower arms, he could instantly feel a powerful arcane shield surrounding him. While the artifact wouldn’t make him invincible, it would significantly increase his odds of survival and was incredibly valuable.

Krivax knew that Hadix wasn’t the kind of person who would appreciate a big show of emotions, so he simply filled his voice with as much sincerity as he could before thanking his mentor. “Thank you for this, Vizier Hadix. I understand the value of this artifact and I’ll do everything I can to survive this battle.”

Hadix simply nodded to Krivax stoically before turning around and continuing to the portals.

After taking a moment to gather his resolve and look at the artifact that had been gifted to him, Krivax followed after him, fully prepared to face the dangers ahead.

I have to be. Not just for me, but for everyone, Krivax resolved in his mind as he moved forward with his usual worry, but also with a determination to see things through.

Chapter Text

Deathwing found himself lost in memories as he examined the weapon that had recently been hung on the walls of his manor.

The masterfully crafted greatsword was covered in potent elvish enchantments that he was unable to recognize. It was also thoroughly imbued with Void magic, which wasn’t a surprise given where it had been for the past few millennia. Deathwing couldn’t help but wonder how the sword came to be buried in the brain of the being he had been looking for, but he supposed it didn’t matter in the end.

Despite being an immensely powerful weapon, it wasn’t the greatsword itself that filled Deathwing with nostalgia. No, the fact that he had taken it from the Tomb of Tyr was the true reason for that. It had been a long time since he had last thought of the person responsible for convincing the Titans to empower him and his siblings. He could remember a time when he had once looked up to Tyr with nothing but reverence and admiration, but such memories were tainted by the knowledge that Tyr was responsible for the suffocating burden that had set Deathwing on his path.

It's their fault. They’re the ones who placed such a burden on you. We freed you from the Titans’ chains.

As had long become habit, Deathwing forced away any thoughts of his life before he had surrendered himself to his current masters and focused on more recent matters.

When his masters had first whispered to him the location of the tomb so that he could resurrect one of the creatures that had killed Tyr, Deathwing had expected it to be a relatively simple matter.

Of course, as one of the nine constructs who the Titans had empowered and given orders to watch over Azeroth in their stead, Tyr was an enormously powerful being and his tomb had once possessed defenses worthy of a being that many mortals had once worshiped as a god.

In fact, the tomb seals and wards were very familiar… though he didn’t bother looking deep into those memories.

However, those defenses had degraded significantly over the long years and the only thing left had been a few powerful wards and an Order of mortals who had been entirely unprepared to defend themselves against a being like Deathwing.

Despite this, the entire affair had been far more tedious than he had expected. The humans had been studying Tyr’s hammer, The Silver Hand, and had become annoyingly proficient in wielding the Light as a result. It would have been simple to slaughter them all if he used either his true form or the Void, but matters would have become greatly complicated if his efforts were discovered.

Deathwing didn’t want his siblings to know what he had done until it was already too late.

It had taken him some time, but he had eventually succeeded in sneaking his way into the portion of the tomb holding the creature, pulling the greatsword from its skull, and sealing the tomb’s exit as it slowly returned to life. The few remaining mortals who managed to survive the subsequent slaughter had hidden themselves behind an immensely powerful ward that was not only tied to their life energy but also empowered by Tyr’s hammer.

Deathwing could almost admire their ability to survive against such overwhelming power, but he knew that they were just delaying the inevitable. Once the creature returned to its full power, there would be nowhere left for them to hide.

He looked forward to finally being able to access both Tyr’s corpse and his weapon.

Resurrecting him was probably impossible given his nature as a constructed being and the hammer would probably fight him every step of the way if he tried to use it, but Deathwing was certain he could find a use for the contents of the tomb.

Perhaps I’ll hang that damned hammer on my wall as well, Deathwing thought with dark amusement. Only after corrupting it, of course. I’d love to be able to see the look on Tyr’s face after seeing his precious weapon being corrupted by the Void.

Of course, the greatest prize of his little expedition was the being that he had brought back to life. The creature would be fully capable of keeping the Dragon Soul completely and utterly safe from the other Aspects, especially in their weakened states.

If it had only taken two of the creatures to slay Tyr, arguably the greatest warrior to have ever served the Titans and empowered by Aggramar himself, then what hope did his siblings have?

The only thing that was left for Deathwing to do was to wait for it to fully recover from its wounds, and then there would be nothing on Azeroth able to stop him.

Just as he was feeling satisfied with his future plans, Deathwing's eyes widened with shock and he looked up as a brilliant beam of arcane energy instantly tore apart his wards and slammed into his body. The attack completely obliterated his manor and left behind a path of devastation as it carved a furrow in the earth.

The beam finally ended once it pushed Deathwing into a crater in the nearby woods.

That actually hurt, Deathwing thought with a hint of surprise. How long has it been since someone actually managed to cause me pain? Although I have a feeling about who’s responsible.

“Neltharion!” an angry and very familiar voice roared out in pure hatred, confirming his suspicion.

So they’ve come.

Deathwing let loose a roar of his own as he abandoned his mortal visage and willed the earth away from him. He exploded out of the crater in his full glory and glared at those foolish enough to face him.

Flying high above and glaring at him with expressions ranging from grim determination to sheer hatred were his siblings.

His foolish sisters had both arrived with their consorts, but it seemed like his brothers had come alone. Nozdormu’s mates were likely tending to his duties in his stead, but Malygos was almost certainly alone for an entirely different reason.

“What a pleasant reunion. I admit, I’m surprised that you’re all so willing to face me, especially with your consorts at your sides, sisters,” said Deathwing, letting out a sadistic chuckle. “I didn’t expect to see you alone, Malygos. I could have sworn that I left one or two of your consorts alive, no? Did you leave them behind out of fear that I would kill them as well, or did they simply lose interest in you while you were wallowing around uselessly for the past ten millennia?”

Unfortunately, Malygos didn’t charge at him in an insane rage as Deathwing had expected. He instead simply glared at him with murderous intent before speaking softly with his voice filled with utter loathing, “Today is the day that you die, Neltharion. I’m going to capture the memory of your life leaving your eyes and treasure it dearly.”

“And how exactly am I going to die, brother?” Deathwing called out mockingly. “Even with your combined might, you all have little hope of defeating me in your current state. It was clever of you to ambush me away from the Dragon Soul, but it won’t be very long before my servants bring it here and you’re all brought under my power.”

Much to his surprise, his siblings failed to respond to his taunts, causing Deathwing to suddenly become suspicious and attempt to contact his daughter Onyxia through the Void. The destruction of the wards around his manor should have already triggered a magical alarm to notify her of the situation. His children and that ogre should be on their way with the Dragon Soul.

When the spell completely failed to make contact with Onyxia, Deathwing let out a growl of frustration, “What have you done?”

“You always did forget, brother, that you weren’t always the smartest being in the room. Nobody is going to interrupt us, Neltharion,” said Nozdormu, his voice as annoyingly calm as ever.

Deathwing didn’t have the time to respond as his siblings and their mates lost interest in the conversation and went on the attack.

At Ysera’s command, massive roots from every tree in his vicinity simultaneously emerged from the earth and wrapped themselves around his wings and body, holding him in place. Alexstrasza descended from the sky and smashed into his trapped body like a meteorite, and he immediately began wrestling with her with claws, fangs, and fire.

Deathwing called on his command over the earth and slammed his tail into the ground with all of his strength. The effect was catastrophic as the earth for a mile around shook with his fury and every tree in the forest was instantly destroyed and uprooted; most importantly the shaking threw off Alexstrasza. He attempted to use his geomancy to knock the relatively weak consorts out of the sky with massive boulders, but Nozdormu used his magic to slow the boulders down and they were easily dodged.

Malygos attempted to skewer him by launching a barrage of enormous ice spikes down on him, but Deathwing merely created a large stone barrier between him and his brother before smashing his tail into Alexstrasza’s side and sending her flying away.

“You might have found some way to prevent my children from bringing me the Dragon Soul, but your efforts will lead to nothing!” Deathwing yelled out as soon as Alexstrasza was flung away. “Every moment that you’re here fighting me is another moment that your precious mortals are being slaughtered!”

This isn’t how he wanted to reveal the creature, it was much too early to make the most use of the monster, but his siblings had pushed him and the mortal world would suffer as a result of it. Alexstrasza had always been a bleeding heart, and she would be distracted by the mortals’ suffering for the rest of the fight as a result.

Perhaps he’d even have the chance to capture her and Ysera after all…

It only took Deathwing a single moment to contact the creature through the Void and order it to attack Capital City, sealing the fate of countless mortal lives and ensuring the destruction of the Alliance leadership.

“Neltharion, what have you done?” asked Alexstrasza, outraged.

“Something horrifying and foolish in equal measure, no doubt,” Ysera responded in a disappointed tone.

“Since you seem so intent on keeping your own plans secret, I see no reason to share mine,” said Deathwing smugly. “But know that as you fight with me here, my plans are already underway elsewhere. We’ll see in the end which of us came more prepared.”

“You won't see it no matter what!” Malygos roared.

At that, Deathwing threw himself back at his siblings with murderous intent.

--------------------

Krivax could feel the tension amongst their group grow as they approached the camp of the Twilight Hammer Clan.

Nobody had said a word for nearly twenty minutes, and the only sound that could be heard was the loud grinding of the jormungar ahead as it carved a tunnel through the earth. One of the Archmages had summoned a floating ball of light that followed the group, and another had created a ward around them that produced fresh air. Krivax had expected that the long trip from the Alliance’s frontline to their destination would have been a bit more difficult, but one of the Archmages whom he had never met had given everyone an Elixir of Endless Stamina.

An elixir like that would normally cost a small fortune, but nobody had any intention of going into this without using every resource at their disposal. Pretty much everyone was covered in powerful enchanted artifacts in preparation for the battle ahead of them. Krivax himself was wearing robes that had been made from some of the most valuable silks that Azjol-Nerub could produce.

Krivax glanced at his friend and was satisfied to see that even Masruk was also equipped with the expensive artifacts that were standard issue for Dread Stalkers.

Eventually, the silence was broken once they got close enough to their target for them to begin making preparations.

“I can sense the Void’s foul blight directly above us,” Hadix said with disgust before turning to address Anub’rekhan. “We should be beneath the Twilight Hammer Clan’s main camp.”

The Spiderlord had been chosen as the leader of the operation due to him possessing the most experience against the Horde as well as familiarity with nerubian tactics and underground assaults.

“Understood,” Anub’rekhan said before turning to address the group. “Worm Handler Crut’zok, order the jormungar to begin digging defensive tunnels immediately. Viziers and Archmages will follow behind you laying out traps. We likely won't have much time before the black dragons sense our approach. Vizier Saltik, begin creating the wards to protect the tunnel network from the enemy's geomancy. Vizier Crinis, wait for the assault to commence before you begin creating the portal, we want to be as prepared as possible before we alert them.”

A part of Krivax had been expecting Anub’rekhan to give some kind of inspirational speech before the big battle, but it seemed like the time for that was long past. Now was the time for them to prepare to fight for the fate of their world.

Everyone immediately moved to carry out their respective tasks. It only took a few moments for the jormungar to finish expanding the main chamber in which Crinis would be opening the portal, and Krivax quickly found himself a corner, climbed to the ceiling, and began spinning a defensive web.

Against what was likely to be overwhelming numbers, exploiting his advantage in mobility as a nerubian and creating a defensible position would be essential. Many of the Dread Stalkers were doing so as well, and he had no doubt that more than a few orcs would be suddenly killed by nerubians falling down on top of them.

The Archmages followed behind the jormungar and thoroughly covered the tunnels with magical traps set to activate when anyone who wasn’t a member of their group passed by. Once he finished spinning his web, Krivax quickly followed after them, intent on memorizing the path of the tunnels.

After nearly a minute of extensive trap setting and tunnel digging, the loud bellow of Anub’rekhan echoed throughout the tunnels, “Our presence has been discovered and the dragons are assaulting the wards! Gather at the jormungar! Crinis, start opening the portal!”

Krivax immediately stopped what he was doing in alarm and began sprinting through the tunnels toward the distinctive sound of the jormungar. It didn’t take long before he arrived at the same chamber as the rest of the group, most of whom were looking up as the earth began to shake around them.

“The assault will begin now,” Anub’rekhan said solemnly as a thin sheen of Light began to grow around his body. “The attacking team will follow the jormungar to the surface and engage the dragons while searching for the Dragon Soul. The defending team will follow behind us after a few moments, engage the rest of the Twilight Hammer Clan, and carry out a fighting retreat into the tunnels if necessary. Any questions?”

The chamber was silent. Everyone had already known what to expect.

“Good, then we begin. Worm Handler Crut’zok, open a path to the surface. Everyone, drink whichever elixir was provided to you by Archmage Karlain.”

The jormungar promptly started tunneling to the surface as everyone prepared for the coming fight.

Archmage Karlain happened to be an alchemist and had personally created a variety of invaluable elixirs that would help tip the scales in their favor. Krivax could feel his mind expand and reaction speed increase dramatically as soon as he drank his own Elixir of Alacrity. Seconds later, he heard the hissing of the jormungar and the bone-chilling roar of an enraged dragon as their tunnel connected to the surface.

“Attacking team, follow behind me. Defending team, wait thirty seconds before ascending,” said Anub’rekhan, immediately charging up the tunnel with startling speed afterward.

Antonidas, Prince Kael’thas, Kel’Thuzad, and Hadix quickly followed after him, each of them glowing with potent arcane energies as they prepared for the fight of their lives.

The next thirty seconds were probably the longest Krivax had ever experienced as the sounds of hissing, roars, and explosions resounded above him. He knew that every member of the attacking team was an absolute powerhouse in their own right, but their enemies weren’t exactly slouches either.

When Ansirem finally gave the order for the defending team to advance to the surface, Krivax actually felt a hint of relief break through his anxiety.

Once he reached the surface, Krivax took his position at the tunnel entrance and looked around the chaotic battlefield. Anub’rekhan was glowing brightly with the Light as a swarm of angry locusts flew around him while he traded blows with a massive black dragon that Krivax assumed to be Deathwing’s eldest son, Nefarian. The two of them left a path of trampled orc corpses in their wake as their fight moved throughout the camp.

A half dozen images of Prince Kael’thas were bombarding a significantly smaller black dragon who was most likely Deathwing’s youngest son, Sabellian, with a barrage of arcane missiles. At the same time, Archmage Kel’Thuzad was preventing the dragon from going airborne by continuously freezing its limbs to the ground and using barriers made of ice to block its fiery breath.

Meanwhile, Antonidas was busy proving why he was considered to be a once-in-a-generation genius and the most powerful mage in Dalaran. Krivax watched in awe as the Grand Magus simultaneously cast multiple spells at the airborne figure of Onyxia, Deathwing’s eldest daughter. Massive orbs of violet fire chased after the dragon as a summoned water elemental created long spikes of ice that erupted from the ground in an attempt to disrupt her flight path.

Onyxia attempted to bury Antonidas in magma with her breath, but the Grand Magus simply teleported to the side without interrupting any of his spells.

Krivax forced himself to pull his attention away from Antonidas and check on his mentor. Hadix was fighting Cho’gall and was currently attempting to turn the ogre to ash by bathing him in a whirlwind of flames. Unfortunately, the ogre had been exceedingly empowered by the Void and was merely laughing insanely as his skin melted in the heat and quickly regenerated. Grotesque tentacles were beginning to grow all along his body and his immediate vicinity was utterly drenched with waves of corrosive Void magic.

Krivax was more than a little surprised to see that Cho’gall was actually carrying the Dragon Soul on his person. The ogre must have been afraid of someone sneaking by and stealing it once it became clear that their camp was being assaulted.

“Incoming!”

Krivax had to pull his attention away from the attacking team once Ansirem yelled out in warning as a veritable tide of pale orcs, a few two-headed ogres, and many of the strange Void-mutated dwarves charged at them from every direction. The Dread Stalkers had already taken a defensive formation around the entrance to the tunnel with their spears out while Krivax and the mages began casting their spells.

A vast array of fire, ice, and arcane spells flew from their position and painted the battlefield in gore. His alchemically enhanced sense of perception allowed Krivax to see in great detail as one of his own bolts of ice pierced through the chest of a charging orc. The battle continued in this fashion for several minutes with the Horde force struggling to advance against a line of elite nerubian warriors and several extremely powerful mages. One of the Viziers even used his geomancy to create a spiked trench around their position that slowly started to be filled with corpses.

Despite taking such severe losses, the Twilight Hammer Clan was utterly relentless and didn’t hesitate to step over the corpses of their comrades to get to them. At one point, several of the orcs managed to get close to their flanks and Krivax promptly created an ice barrier around himself and turned the ground in front of the Dread Stalkers into mud. Masruk in front of him used the opportunity to impale one of the creatures on the end of his spear with a quick thrust.

Krivax lost himself to the tide of battle as everyone around him frantically killed as much of the enemy forces as possible. Unfortunately, their endurance was not inexhaustible, and it was quickly becoming clear that the Horde had more than enough forces to bury them under a mountain of corpses.

Krivax found himself pulled out of his strange trance by the voice of Ansirem as he shouted over the chaos, “Magister Rommath, we need some space!”

The elvish mage responded by stepping back from the chaos of the battle so that he could begin casting a spell. Around ten seconds later, Krivax was forced to look away as a massive pillar of fire erupted from just outside their perimeter and bathed the enemy forces in flames.

Rommath was quickly caught by one of the Dread Stalkers as he started to collapse to the ground from mana exhaustion.

“Well done, Magister,” Ansirem shouted over the sounds of screaming orcs. “I’m sure we don’t have much longer before they resume their assault. Do everything that you can to preserve your strength and start preparing for a fighting retreat into the tunnels. We’ll still need to last for a while longer until Crinis is able to open the portal and we can receive reinforcements.”

The group’s mood seemed to lift at the reminder that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and everyone quickly began making preparations. Krivax retrieved a healing potion from his spatial bag and poured some of it on a minor wound on his leg that he’d gotten from one of the pale orcs. He checked up on Masruk and was relieved to see that in spite of the nicks on his armor, he had not suffered any significant injuries.

“Archmage Modera, I think you’d be better off helping Vizier Hadix retrieve the Dragon Soul,” Ansirem said to his colleague. “We need to secure it and bring it to the portal as quickly as possible. With the advantage of the tunnels, I’m confident that we’ll be able to hold out without you.”

Modera nodded and set off for Hadix and Cho’gall without another word, summoning a deluge of water elementals that quickly began sweeping away any enemy in her path.

Soon after that, the Horde forces managed to regroup and resumed their ferocious attack. The group continued to kill wave after wave as they slowly retreated toward the tunnel entrance. Once it became clear that they couldn’t hold any longer, Ansirem ordered them to fully retreat and Archmage Karlain threw a flask at the tunnel entrance that exploded into violet fire that streamed toward any living creature that drew close.

I’m starting to get way too used to the smell of cooking orcs, Krivax thought as he descended the tunnels, feeling slightly nauseous.

------------------

Hadix teleported out of the way as the Void-corrupted abomination attempted to cave in his skull with its huge hammer. The Void's interference made it slightly difficult to cast spatial magic, but Hadix was more than accustomed to dealing with such inconveniences.

As soon as he was out of the way, Hadix activated the spell that he had left behind, causing a spike of earth to erupt from the ground and lift the creature into the air as it was impaled. Hadix didn’t let his guard down for a moment, as he knew how difficult it was to kill anything that had been so thoroughly infused with the Void.

His assumptions were proved accurate as it promptly smashed through the pillar in its stomach with its weapon and threw a stream of shadowy flame in Hadix’s direction that splashed against his already prepared shield.

Hmm. It’s even stronger than I had expected, Hadix mused to himself as he watched the creature’s wound heal itself before turning his attention to the Dragon Soul hanging from its armor. Completing this mission is going to be difficult…

While it seemed like his allies were fairly successful in distracting their designated enemies, none of them would be able to provide aid any time soon. Thankfully, the fight between Anub’rekhan and the largest dragon was causing so much destruction that most of the enemy forces decided to focus on the other groups, which meant that the abomination wouldn’t be receiving any aid either.

“Why do you fight me, nerubian? I can feel the presence of the Old Ones within you! You should be helping me in carrying out their will,” said the abomination through its twin mouths, pulling Hadix out of his thoughts with its insane ramblings.

Your actions are futile. Only through serving us can you protect your people from what is prophesied to come.

With practiced ease, Hadix fortified his mind with magical defenses and pushed the whispers away.

“Your masters offer nothing that I want, you ignorant fool,” said Hadix, deciding to indulge the creature while he considered his next course of action. “The Old Gods want nothing more than to bring death and destruction to everything that they touch. The creatures are akin to parasites that serve no greater purpose other than to be a blight on the world.”

“How am I the fool when you’re the one who fights uselessly against the inevitable,” Cho’gall snarled in anger as his second head babbled incoherently. “I know you’ve felt their power! Do you really believe that this world has any hope of standing against them?!”

“Perhaps we don’t,” Hadix calmly admitted. “But I have every intention of fighting your masters to my last breath, and I know that I’m not the only one.”

Seeing his chance, Hadix instantly cast a spell that caused the earth to rise from underneath the creature and clutch onto his legs. It was only a moment later that a streak of arcane energy smashed into the Dragon Soul from the creature’s flank, breaking the piece of armor it was attached to just enough to and sending it flying away.

Hadix released the geomantic spell holding the ogre in place as a tide of water collided with the creature and swept it away from the Dragon Soul. By the time he finished running over to the artifact and picking it up off the ground, Archmage Modera had already emerged from her invisibility spell and was standing by his side.

“So, this is what the fate of the world rests on then? Malygos had already shown us what it looks like, but I still can’t help but feel a tad bit disappointed.”

As much as he might wish otherwise, Hadix found himself agreeing. The Dragon Soul looked like nothing more than a flat golden disk connected to a golden chain, which was hardly what one would expect from such a powerful artifact. It was only his magical senses that revealed the object to be anything more than it looked, as Hadix could sense ancient and powerful magic radiating from the artifact in his hands.

“And what exactly were you hoping to accomplish with that?!” the abomination growled out as it shuffled towards the two of them. “Neither one of you could ever hope to damage the master’s artifact, nor will you be taking it away from here alive!”

The creature had seemingly given up any hope of recruiting him and channeled its foul magic into the ground, causing a writhing forest of tentacles to rise all around them. Hadix quickly took in his surroundings and realized that there was no path of escape, and the dense layer of Void energies was making it impossible for him to teleport away.

“This isn’t good,” muttered Archmage Modera, her face filled with determination as she called her water elementals back to her side

“No, it definitely isn’t,” said Hadix, throwing a massive ball of fire in the abomination’s direction as he prepared to fight for his life.

-----------------

Several miles west of Capital City, the surface of the lake commonly known as Tirisfal Lake began to violently ripple, the waves growing larger and larger. The waters of the lake slowly began to turn as dark as the night sky as a shadowy body within the lake emerged from its depths.

Soon, a monstrous figure that hadn’t been seen since ancient times broke the surface of the water, causing water to cascade over its body as it stood to its full height. The trees near the lake started to decay and rot and the earth churned as corrosive blood dripped from its various wounds and congealed into small horrors that immediately began attacking the local wildlife.

The beast, taller and bulkier than a hill, looked as if someone had placed the face of an octopus onto a humanoid crab, but even this bare description could not truly encapsulate the horrid evil being inimical to all life not of the Void.

The creature waved its facial tentacles in the air and sniffed out a great gathering of mortals to the east. The earth shuddered as it took the first steps out of the lake and toward its target.

“Soon… all will be one with the Void,” it rumbled in a tone that promised nothing but madness and destruction to all.

Chapter Text

King Terenas Menethil listened carefully as his advisors delivered their report on the current state of the war. Although the topic was grim, he much preferred listening to news about the war rather than hearing about Lordaeron’s impending food shortages.

He dearly hoped that the war would end soon because his kingdom simply wouldn’t be able to feed so many refugees for very much longer. His people had already suffered enough as a result of the Horde’s brutality, and the last thing that anyone wanted to deal with was famine.

Thankfully, it seemed more and more that the war had decisively turned in their favor thanks to the participation of Azjol-Nerub.

“To summarize, Your Majesty, all signs point to Horde losing the ability to sustain a fighting force within the next few months, as long as current rates of attrition continue,” said Marshal Whitehall, concluding his report.

“Those estimates assume that Azjol-Nerub’s forces continue deploying at a steady rate, correct?” asked Terenas.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Terenas hummed thoughtfully as he considered humanity’s frightening allies in the fight against the Horde.

When the nerubians had first declared their intention to wage war against the Horde, he had been disappointed to hear that the portal from Northrend to Dalaran was incapable of transferring as many troops as he would have preferred. Many lives could have been saved if Azjol-Nerub had been able to deploy its—what turned out to be more than considerable—might against the Horde.

However, now that it was starting to seem as if the worst had passed, Teranas couldn’t help but worry that his kingdom had many more matters to worry about than just the Horde.

Before the war, his analysts had estimated Azjol-Nerub to be about as powerful as Quel’Thalas, if the spider kingdom’s claims were taken at face value. Several of his advisors had assumed that the nerubians must have been exaggerating their capabilities, but it was now clear that nothing could be further from the truth.

Whether it be due to their ability to easily invalidate their enemy's defensive advantages by quickly digging tunnels, the Spiderlords invoking fear and awe on the battlefield, or their alien lack of self-preservation, people were starting to look at the nerubians with a mixture of apprehension and respect.

Terenas had no doubt that such sentiments would grow considerably once the war was over, but personally speaking, Azjol-Nerub’s military capabilities weren’t actually what worried him the most.

No, his chief concern when it came to the spider people was their unexpectedly close relationship with Dalaran. Terenas had spent the past few months listening to reports about the Council of Six having a suspicious number of private meetings with the nerubian diplomats and none of his spies were able to actually tell him what they were discussing. He had long grown accustomed to the Kirin Tor being excessively secretive in their dealings, but something about the matter just set Terenas on edge.

It didn’t help that the Council of Six were the only ones to meet with the nerubian High King. Terenas was especially concerned that Azjol-Nerub and Dalaran had inexplicably reached an agreement to study shadow magic and necromancy and were devoting a significant amount of resources to do so.

Terenas had once tried to listen as his Court Conjurer attempted to explain the differences between shadow magic, necromancy, and demon summoning, but he had been unable to understand the complicated jargon. Ultimately, he had simply come to the conclusion that they were all evil magics that should not be trifled with.

Dalaran had always seemed to share a similar opinion, but some unknown factor was causing them to rapidly change their mind and Terenas didn’t enjoy not knowing what that was. Experience had taught him that the topics that he was least informed on were the ones that tended to cause the most problems. While the Horde and the threat of famine were both extremely troublesome problems, they at least could be planned around.

Terenas was just about to ask his spymaster for an update on their investigation into Dalaran’s activities when he was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of commotion outside of his Imperial Chamber. His guards knew not to allow anyone to bother him while he was in a closed-session meeting with his advisors, so whoever was causing the disturbance must be quite serious.

His suspicions were all but confirmed when Archmage Krasus of the Council of Six burst open the door to his throne room and strode inside with a grave expression on his face.

Several of his King’s Guard promptly moved to intercept the Archmage and the one who had been posted outside the chamber tried to excuse the disturbance, “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, we attempted to stop him, bu—”

“There’s no time for any of this. King Menethil, this city needs to be evacuated at once, or hundreds of thousands of people are going to die!” Archmage Krasus yelled over the guard’s protests, immediately causing everyone to freeze in shock.

Terenas was the first to recover and quickly order his guards to stand down and let the mage speak, “What is the meaning of this, Archmage? I trust that you understand the severity of your claims.”

“I do and I wouldn’t do this if the circumstances weren’t quite so dire. Please, just give me a moment to explain,” said the Archmage. Terenas studied the man for a few moments before giving the man permission to speak with a nod. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Around twenty minutes ago, several of our mages reported sensing a massive surge in shadow magic somewhere to the west of Capital City.”

Terenas hummed thoughtfully before deciding to use this opportunity to probe a member of the Council of Six for answers, “Would these mages happen to be among those who were assigned to work with Azjol-Nerub to study shadow magic?”

If Archmage Krasus was surprised or offended to be questioned on a matter that was supposed to be confidential, he didn’t show it. “That is correct, Your Majesty. After receiving their reports, I immediately looked into the matter personally and discovered a calamity headed toward Capital City. Although it’s not safe to scry the source of the problem directly, I can create an illusion of it so that you have some understanding of how much danger your people are in.”

With his explanation delivered, Archmage Krasus didn’t wait for permission before casting an illusion that completely banished the Imperial Chambers and replaced it with an empty field containing a massive monstrous creature that was difficult to look at without feeling a strange pressure pushing against his mind.

Terenas had seen many horrific things in his decades of kingship, but something about the illusionary entity filled him with a strange sense of dread that he found hard to put into words. It wasn’t just that the creature was large enough to breach the Capital City’s outer walls, but the monster felt… antithetical to all life as Terenas knew it.

Judging by the panicked and disgusted expressions of his advisors, he wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

It feels opposite to how I feel when in the presence of the Light, Terenas suddenly realized.

“By the Light, what is that thing?” asked Marshal Whitehall, more disturbed than Terenas had ever seen him.

“According to our records, it’s an ancient monster born of shadow magic known as a C’Thrax, and it will be arriving at the outskirts of the Capital City in little more than an hour,” Archmage Krasus said grimly as he banished the illusions. “And when it does, the monster will start slaughtering everyone in the city and corrupting them into unthinking abominations.”

“If the situation is so dire then I need actual information, Archmage,” said Terenas, his voice fierce as he turned to look at the mage. “This is the most populous city in the Eastern Kingdoms! I can’t just decide to evacuate it simply on the word of a foreign mage, and an hour is not nearly enough time to get everyone out of the city even if we tried! Where did this creature come from and why is it attacking Capital City?”

A flash of frustration passed through the mage's expression, but he must have decided that answering Terenas’ questions was the quickest way to get anything done. “We’ve managed to trace its path back to a lake in the westernmost parts of Tirisfal Glades. I don’t know for certain why it has chosen to attack Capital City specifically, but I imagine it’s because this city is simultaneously the most populous in the area, while also being incredibly vulnerable.”

Something about the current situation seemed incredibly suspicious to Terenas, and it took him a few moments to identify why that was. “Why are you delivering this news, and not Antonidas? I can’t remember the two of us personally speaking on more than a handful of occasions, Archmage Krasus.”

“Your Majesty, I’m not certain you fully appreciate the urgency of the current situation,” said the Archmage, his expression one of intense frustration. “Every moment that you spend questioning me is another moment that the C’thrax draws closer to your city! The sooner that we begin the evacuation, the more lives we’ll save.”

“Then I suggest you explain quickly,” Tenernas said stubbornly. “Explain to me why you’re here rather than the Grand Magus, and why are you so insistent that we are unable to defend ourselves against this monstrosity? While it’s true that the city is currently susceptible to attack with most of our military sent to the frontlines, our garrison with the aid of Dalaran’s mages should be able to defeat that creature. Or does the Council of Six not intend to honor its agreement to help defend our city during times of need?”

Archmage Krasus looked incredibly uncomfortable as he responded to Terenas’ questions, “The Council of Six and several of Dalaran’s Archmages are dealing with an issue related to the individual who I suspect to be responsible for unleashing this creature. I sincerely doubt the council will return quickly enough to help defend the city.”

Terenas glared at the mage for several moments before glancing over to his spymaster, who quickly nodded and confirmed that the mage who he had sent to scry Dalaran once Krasus barged into his chamber was unable to contact the Council.

“Please, Your Majesty. I understand that this all sounds suspicious, but these explanations will need to wait until later. We must take action now,” Archmage Krasus pleaded.

Terenas studied the man carefully and felt his heart drop as he saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Although there was much about this situation that didn’t make sense, his instincts were telling him that the Archmage spoke the truth and the horrific abomination was about to attack his city.

The Light preserve us…

“Marshal Whitehall, go to Captain Falric and offer him any assistance you can to start evacuating the city. Prepare the Undercity to hold anyone who can’t be taken away from the city quickly enough,” Tenernas urgently ordered. “Send a few men to escort my family as well as Prince Varian to the docks to sail them over to Dalaran as quickly as possible. Place the city garrison on full alert and send the gryphon riders out to scout for the creature.”

Marshal Whitehall immediately saluted him before leaving to carry out his orders without question. The entire palace burst into a hive of activity as Terenas gave out a flurry of orders.

Once he finished delegating duties, Archmage Krasus approached him once again, “Your Majesty, you need to evacuate the city alongside your family. Lordaeron can’t afford to lose its king during such a tumultuous time in history.”

“Lordaeron also can’t afford to have a king who runs away like a coward and allows his people to face catastrophe alone,” Terenas said resolutely. “As long as Capital City stands, I will not abandon it, Archmage.”

“I sincerely urge you to reconsider, Your Majesty. The world is already chaotic enough. There’s no imagining what might happen if both Stormwind and Lordaeron are ruled by regents.”

Terenas could imagine it well. Both Alterac and Gilneas would be incredibly interested in taking advantage of the situation, but that didn’t change his choice in the slightest.

“I’ve made my decision, Archmage,” said Terenas, his voice firm. “I believe your efforts would be better spent elsewhere, rather than attempting to change my mind.”

For a moment, Archmage Krasus looked as if he was going to continue arguing with him, but something in his expression must have convinced the mage that trying to persuade him to leave would be fruitless. Instead, the Archmage simply nodded and moved to leave the chamber.

As soon as he was gone, Terenas took a moment to center his thoughts before he quickly began making his way to see his family for what he hoped was not the final time. Terenas had no intention of dying a needless death, but if he did, he had faith that Lordaeron would be able to rise above the challenges ahead without him.

After all, not only did he have confidence in his people, but also in his wife’s ability to protect Arthas as his regent and to raise him into an extraordinary king.

---------------------

Krasus let out a sigh of frustration as he exited the perimeter of the palace’s wards and immediately teleported away to the Violet Citadel. As the highest-ranking member of the Kirin Tor who was still in the city, it was his responsibility to prepare Dalaran’s defenses.

While Krasus delegated and assigned duties to his subordinates, he did so with the knowledge that it very well might be his last time doing so. Not just because he might die fighting the C’thrax, but also because everyone would almost certainly know the truth of his identity by the end of the day.

Krasus wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t fight the creature with his full strength, and there was no way for him to do so without revealing himself to be a dragon. There would be… significant political consequences for doing so in the future, but that was something to worry about at a later time.

This truly isn’t how I expected this to happen…

Forcing such thoughts away, Krasus decided to focus on more immediate concerns.

His meeting with King Menethil could have gone worse, but it could have also gone much better as well. As honorable as the monarch’s decision was, the world would truly have been better off if the human king had chosen to be a little more selfish. No matter how much he thought about it, Krasus wasn’t particularly confident in his ability to save Capital City from the C’thrax.

The only glimmer of hope was that the creature seemed to be injured and Azjol-Nerub was offering to help fend it off. They had already sent several Viziers through the portal as well as a few Spiderlords and many of their regular soldiers, all of whom were headed to defend Capital City.

Truthfully, the people of the Eastern Kingdoms would owe a great debt to the nerubians by the end of the day.

Although Dalaran had made efforts to monitor any large fluctuations in Void energy while the Aspects were confronting Deathwing, it was the nerubian enclave who noticed the problem first and brought it to their attention. Krasus had dearly hoped that something like this wouldn’t happen and that he’d be able to aid his beloved in her fight after some time, but it wasn’t meant to be.

Damn you Deathwing…

Even though Krasus spent the next thirty minutes preparing Dalaran just in case it needed to defend itself, he also sent many of their forces to help protect Capital City. There was little chance that the C’thrax would be able to move onto Dalaran before the confrontation with Deathwing was concluded. Once that happened, they would either already be doomed or the Aspects would be fully empowered and able to deal with the monster themselves.

Krasus was gratified to see that a substantial number of mages were quite eager to help defend Capital City against the coming monstrosity. One of the most promising among them was a talented young mage with red hair and a broken nose who had recently been placed on probation due to some kind of accident that had happened on the battlefield.

I believe his name was… Rhonin?

He remembered the young man as being quite skilled, so Krasus assigned him to the defense of the city’s walls. They needed all the help they could get.

Krasus decided to return to Capital City once he received word that the C’thrax was close enough for the city’s defenders to see it with their own eyes. Much to the surprise of the city garrison, he teleported directly onto Capital City’s outer walls.

Ignoring the exclamations of the surrounding soldiers, Krasus cast a quick vision improvement spell on his eyes and studied the C’thrax, an ancient Old God abomination that Deathwing must have unleashed on a city full of mortals. Although he had already seen the creature before when he personally verified that it was headed in the direction of Capital City, it wasn’t any easier seeing it a second time.

The C’thrax took long awkward strides and moved with unexpected swiftness, all the while it constantly leaked blood from its wounds and corrupted the land in its wake. Even if they managed to stop it from killing a single person in Capital City, this was already a catastrophe. Not only had the Void spawn most likely destroyed any settlements that happened to be in its path, but it was also causing an ecological disaster that would have significant consequences well into the future.

It would take a very long time before the corrupted land returned to normal. Any farmland in the C’thrax’s path would produce nothing but tainted crops for years to come and Lordaeron would be dealing with Void corrupted wildlife as well.

“You must be Archmage Krasus.” Krasus was pulled from his thoughts by a young man wearing the distinctive armor worn by members of Lordaeron’s King’s Guard.

Krasus nodded and said, “I am.”

“Well met, Archmage. I’m Captain Falric of the King’s Guard, and I’m also in charge of organizing the city’s defense,” said the young man. “I’ll admit, this is a bit beyond my realm of knowledge, so I’d appreciate any insight into the threat that you could provide.”

The mortal was a bit younger than Krasus had expected, but he seemed to be calm and steady despite the dire situation.

“The C’thrax will be nearly impossible to kill through mundane means,” said Krasus after a moment of consideration. “Not only is it far too large for your men to fight directly, but it will also be constantly creating monsters in its vicinity. It would be different if your men had access to powerful enchanted weapons, but the best use for them as it stands is for them to either protect the civilians from being attacked by the smaller abominations or help with the evacuation.”

Krasus had long since learned not to underestimate mortals, but there simply wasn’t much that these men could do to actually harm the C’thrax with their current resources. Captain Falric must have reached a similar conclusion after studying the growing figure in the distance because he merely nodded and signaled for Krasus to continue.

“While it is incredibly powerful, the creature is born of shadow magic and is thus weak to the Light. I sincerely recommend that you work closely with Archbishop Faol and entreat the Church of the Holy Light for any aid that they can offer.”

“No need. The priests have already sworn to help any way they can,” said Captain Falric. “Last I heard, the Archbishop was helping heal the folks who’ve gotten injured in the panic. We’re trying to get people to safety however we can, whether that’s by boat, land, or by herding them into the Undercity, but it’s not easy and a fair amount of people have gotten hurt in the process.”

Sadly, panic was a natural reaction in the face of such a monstrous force. It would slow down the evacuation efforts quite a bit, which could mean life or death when each second counted. Krasus wasn’t sure how many people would be able to evacuate from the city in time, but he doubted if it would be even a third of the city’s population.

Captain Falric paused for a moment in thought before speaking up again.

“I’ve heard of instances in which the priests bless the weapons of warriors to better slay the undead and other unholy creatures. Could they do the same to our artillery?” he asked curiously while staring at the cannons, catapults, bolt throwers, and other siege weapons that lined the outer wall of the city. “If the monster is weak against the Light, even if it's too large to kill, we can at least make it bleed and stall it for as long as we can.”

“Hmmm, I don’t see any reason why that wouldn’t work,” said Krasus, surprised by the man’s creativity. While it was possible for skilled priests to permanently ‘bless’ a weapon, most such examples simply temporarily saturated the weapon with the Light. “However, the blessings will have to be applied to the ammunition rather than the weapons themselves.”

Captain Falric immediately sent one of his men to escort a few priests to the wall so that they could do just that. Krasus spent the rest of his time waiting for the C’thrax to draw closer to the city and discussing strategies with the captain until they were informed that the creature was within artillery range.

Now that the time had finally come, Krasus couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy for the life he had built among the mortals that he was about to lose. He could of course take on a new identity in the future, but he had quite enjoyed his time as Archmage Krasus.

However, he didn’t allow himself to dwell in melancholy for long. Krasus had no doubt that hundreds of thousands of people would be slain, wounded, or debilitated after the events of this day, and he had little right to mourn something as small as a lost identity.

“Captain Falric, it looks like the battle is about to begin,” said Krasus as he turned his attention to the C’thrax. As the next highest-ranking member of the Kirin Tor, Archmage Cedric was more than qualified to take control of Dalaran’s forces in his absence, so there was no longer anything else holding him back. “Please understand that despite what you are about to see, my objective is to help defend this city and you can still count on me as an ally.”

“Archmage, wh—”

Before the captain could fully articulate his question, Korialstrasz had already shed his mortal visage and let loose a mighty roar that resounded throughout the city. It wasn’t long before several other roars answered him and every other dragon in the city was moving to join Korialstrasz in its defense. Most of them had been assigned to the city after their Flight discovered the identity of Daval Prestor, but a few had simply been living mortal lives and were now willing to fight to protect their homes.

None of them were trained combatants as he was, but their aid would still be useful.

After letting out a chuff of disgust at the scent of Void corruption in the air, Korialstrasz turned to look down at the dumbfounded figure of Captain Falric. “Open fire on the creature as soon as you can. It is imperative that we do as much damage to it as possible.”

With those final words of advice, Korialstrasz gathered his resolve and took flight in the direction of the C’thrax.

The creature glared balefully up at him as he flew overhead, but its march toward the city didn’t slow at all. After a few moments, Korialstrasz was joined by six other red and blue dragons, all of whom were much younger than himself.

“Stay in the air and attack the creature from a distance,” Korialstrasz ordered once they were close enough to hear. “It can move much faster than you might expect. If you get within range of its claws, it’ll tear off your wings and snap your necks before you realize what is happening.”

A collective shudder passed through the dragons, but none of them showed any signs that they intended to turn back.

“Yes, Consort Korialstrasz. We understand,” said the oldest among them.

Seeing no more reason to delay, Korialstrasz flew directly over the beast and started preparing his attack. Pulling deeply on both the store of life energy inherent to every red dragon and the potent arcane power that he’d carefully cultivated over his many millennia of practicing magic, Korialstrasz let loose a massive breath of violet fire over the C’thrax.

His fellow dragons followed his example a few seconds after, bathing the creature from top to bottom in dragon fire, pure arcane energy, and frost. Korialstrasz heard the creature grunt in pain and watched as small trees, which grew around it due to his and his fellow red dragons’ life energies, were almost immediately corrupted by the Void. A deluge of blood leaked from its wounds onto the ground, corrupting the land and creating smaller void monstrosities with too many eyes and tentacles that charged the city’s walls.

Despite this, the C’thrax didn’t allow the pain to slow its advance for even a moment and the gathered dragons were eventually forced to cease their attack as their endurance failed.

“Aspects preserve us, the monster was barely hurt!”

Korialstrasz’s estimate of the creature's power grew as he realized that his fellow dragon was correct. While there were a few more wounds littering its body, the C’thrax shrugged off the attack and continued on inexorably.

“Continue the attack. Be careful to conserve your stamina and be prepared for any sudden counter-attacks.”

The next few minutes were spent periodically bathing the creature in dragon breath, which accomplished little more than adding a few more cracks along its carapace. Korialstrasz and the blue dragons occasionally attempted to slow it down with spells of ice, but their efforts were futile as the C’thrax simply ignored them.

This pattern of attacks was eventually disrupted by the thundering sound of cannon fire in the distance. Small chunks of the creature were blown apart as Light infused cannonballs slammed into its body. The mages of Dalaran under Archmage Cedric joined in with a barrage of arcane, frost, and fire spells, but the humans were similarly ineffective in slowing down its approach.

In fact, the C’thrax must have decided to close the final distance as quickly as possible once it entered artillery range because it suddenly began charging Capital City’s wall faster than any creature with so many injuries had any right to move. Korialstrasz tried to do everything that he could to slow down its charge, but the C’thrax smashed through his strongest barriers as if they weren’t even there and eventually slammed directly into the Capital City’s west gate.

Korialstrasz had genuinely hoped that the city’s outer defenses would last longer, but it only took a single hit for the C’thrax to destroy the gate and send the remains of the stone and wood structure flying into the city. The creature then turned its attention to the cannons that continued to fire on it and lobbed a sphere of concentrated Void onto the ramparts.

Dozens of soldiers, priests, and mages were instantly killed, and the rest were left fighting for their life as a multitude of eldritch monstrosities emerged from the point of impact and set upon them.

“Consort Korialstrasz, it’s too powerful! What can we do?” one of the red dragons asked helplessly as the C’thrax casually demolished the remaining obstructions and began making his way into the city.

“Don’t despair, the monster is not as unharmed as it might seem,” Korialstrasz said encouragingly, his sharp eyes examining the abomination's wounds.

While it wasn’t slowing down as it became more injured as most creatures would, the C’thrax was undeniably in a worse state than when they had first started to attack it. Unfortunately, he had no idea if the C’thrax would succumb to its wounds before it could slaughter the entire city.

“I’ll attempt to distract the creature from attacking the mortals by engaging it at close range,” said Korialstrasz after a moment of consideration. “The rest of you continue wearing it down from a distance.”

With his orders given, Korialstrasz flew to a considerable height directly over the C’thrax before folding in his wings and diving down onto the creature’s back at high speed. For the first time since they started attacking it, the monster was forced to pause its march as several tons of dragon smashed into it and began tearing at its body with claws and fangs. The C’thrax finally reacted and immediately grabbed at Korialstrasz's neck with its massive pincer claws, forcing him back to prevent the creature from killing him.

Although Korialstrasz was glad that he had successfully drawn the monster's attention from the mortals, it didn’t take very long for him to realize that he was outmatched in a contest of physical might. Not only was the C’thrax far older than him, but it also seemed to have a wealth of combat experience.

Korialstrasz tore at the creature’s body whenever he could, but the damage that he did was minimal and he was frequently forced to dodge and then occasionally teleport away from blows that he otherwise couldn’t avoid. His fellow dragons continued to attack the C’thrax, but were forced to be much more careful now that they were inside the city to avoid harming the nearby mortals.

Korialstrasz could hear the sounds of terrified mortals all around him as their fight progressed through the city. Much of the westernmost portion of the city had already been evacuated, but many mortals were still killed when they were caught underfoot as the monster trampled through the streets and destroyed entire buildings with a single swing of its arms or stomp of its feet.

All the while, any injuries that they managed to inflict on the C’thrax resulted in its blood spilling onto the streets, corrupting any mortal unfortunate enough to make contact with the foul substance and spawning twisted abominations.

The King’s Guard and city garrison fought ferociously to prevent these monsters from running off into the city or entering the sewers to kill those taking refuge in the Undercity. Rhonin and several other mages summoned water elementals and cast powerful arcane wards to support the soldiers. Their efforts were limited, however, because the flow of monsters being created wouldn’t end until the C’thrax was finally defeated.

This foul creature has to be defeated soon or else there won’t be a city to save, Korialstrasz thought to himself as he took in the damage their fight was doing to the city.

Almost immediately, Korialstrasz found himself punished for his distraction as the C’thrax landed a blow to his side that broke several of his ribs and sent him crashing through several buildings. After taking several moments to pull himself together, Korialstrasz looked up just in time to see that C’thrax seemed to have lost its patience with the attacks of his fellow dragons as it let loose a massive explosive wave of Void energy.

Korialstrasz watched in horror as every dragon was knocked from the sky, not knowing whether they were merely injured or dead, and the majority of Capital City’s western quarter was instantly destroyed. He had no idea how many mortals had failed to evacuate in time, but he had no doubt that the monster's attack had killed several thousands of people.

Just as Korialstrasz was beginning to lose hope in their ability to prevent the destruction of the rest of the city, his attention was suddenly captured by a bone-chilling chittering sound reverberating through the city. Turning his gaze to the east, Korialstrasz was stunned to see a truly massive spider with nerubians clinging to its abdomen climbing over the city walls.

Azjol-Nerub had informed him that they would be sending their most powerful creature to help fight against the C’thrax, but it was much larger than he had expected. While the arachnid was apparently a giant non-sapient spider that they referred to as Maexnna, Korialstrasz found it hard to believe that he wasn’t looking at a Wild God.

He had no doubt that it would be able to easily kill most dragons and suddenly felt truly grateful that Azjol-Nerub was an ally and not an enemy. With his hope renewed, Korialstrasz ignored the protests of his body and lifted himself back into the air just as Maexxna began charging across the city.

The C’thrax attempted to end the fight quickly with a blow toward the spider’s head, but Maexnna instantly jumped to the side and back toward the abomination in a display of extraordinary agility. As Maexxna buried its venomous fangs into the creature's fleshy side, the many nerubians clinging to its abdomen leaped onto the C’thrax and began tearing at its body with everything they had.

Mindful of his injuries, Korialstrasz aided the nerubians by striking opportunistically at the monster from a distance and distracting it from the spider whenever he could. Maexxna’s venom was clearly working as the C’thrax’s wounds started to widen and it finally began showing signs of slowing down. The creature attempted to throw spheres of Void energy at Maexxna several times, but the spider proved to be exceptional at jumping away and either wrapping the C’thrax’s limbs in strong silken webs or spitting venom in its face.

The webs didn’t last for very long, but it was enough to give Korialstrasz the chance to freely wound it a few times. There were even several mages who joined in and cast frost and arcane bolts at the monster’s sides as their fight progressed through the city.

In a display of what was either malicious spite or an attempt to demoralize them, the C’thrax began throwing Void bolts throughout the city. Everywhere that they impacted, a small tear in reality opened up and monstrous creatures immediately began streaming out. Korialstrasz could hear screams of terror reverberating through the city as the creature’s attacks struck the harbor, the cathedral, and the palace.

Each of those locations was highly populated, and Korialstrasz didn’t want to think about how many people would be dead by the time this was all over. Instead, he simply threw himself back into the fight with even greater ferocity.

Korialstrasz wasn’t certain how long he had been fighting when he abruptly noticed the C’thrax glancing toward the ruins of the west gate and waving its remaining facial tentacles in the direction. Having learned to not be close to the monster while distracted, Korialstrasz flew out of the creature’s reach before looking to see what had drawn its attention, only to see a sight that made him wonder whether or not he had suddenly been transported into a bard’s tale.

From the west, a mounted armored man was riding towards the city while carrying a massive hammer that shone more brightly with the Light than anything Korialstrasz had seen in his life. A hammer that very closely resembled one wielded by the mightiest Keeper, Tyr, whom he remembered hearing stories about as a whelp…

Having no time to wonder exactly when his life had slipped into myth and legend, Korialstrasz immediately bellowed out orders for everyone fighting the C’thrax. “Do not allow the abomination to intercept the human riding in from the west! Deter it by any means necessary!”

If that hammer reached the hands of a skilled wielder of the Light, then they might actually have a chance of hurting the monster enough to keep it down.

The pace of the battle immediately reached a new dangerous peak as the C’thrax fought with reckless abandon, doing its utmost to kill everyone so that it could turn its full attention to the approaching threat. Corrupted blood flowed through the streets and every one of its blows carried with it immense amounts of Void energies. Enormous tentacles emerged from the ground and entrapped one of Maexxna’s legs, allowing the C’thrax to tear it off in a single motion. Its body emanated constant waves of Void that tore at the nerubians riding its body

Silent up until this point, the monster began rumbling in a strange eldritch tongue that tore at Korialstrasz’s mind and caused many of the nearby mortals to shriek in agony.

Abruptly, that pain ended as the Light spread over the battlefield and banished the Void from their minds. Korialstrasz turned to the source of the Light and saw the armored man from before standing next to Archbishop Faol, who was grasping tightly unto Tyr’s legendary weapon, the Silver Hand.

Korialstrasz had met the Archbishop on more than a few occasions in his mortal visage and always known him to be a gentle-hearted man who was as far from violent as any mortal could reach. However, the absolute fury on the old man’s face was enough to momentarily frighten even him.

“Foul shadow-born abomination! How dare you attack this city, cause such destruction, and ruin so many lives! You will answer to the Light!”

As the Archbishop spoke with furious conviction, the Light flowing through both him and the hammer pushed against the corruption caused by the C’thrax, instantly killing many of the smaller monsters surrounding it. The creature didn’t deign to respond to the Archbishop’s accusations and simply sent a concentrated beam of Void energy in his direction. Korialstrasz and several mages attempted to summon barriers to protect the priest, but none of them lasted more than a second before being shattered.

Fortunately, they needn’t have bothered. The Light rose around the Archbishop like a beacon in the night and pushed down against the C’thrax in a blinding display of power. Korialstrasz savored the pain in the creature’s voice as it screamed and attempted to shield itself with the Void.

Everyone in Capital City bore witness to a display that would undoubtedly go down in legend as Void and Light struggled fiercely against one another.

After several long moments, the display finally came to an end as waves of Light burned through the Void shield protecting it and seared the flesh off the creature. Korialstrasz let out a sigh of relief as the C’thrax finally succumbed to its wounds and collapsed. He could tell that it was not truly dead and that if nothing was done it would rise again in time. For now, it had been incapacitated and wouldn’t even begin to stir for weeks. That was more than long enough for the Aspects to regain their powers and conclude their confrontation with Deathwing.

As Korialstrasz looked around at the soldiers, mages, priests, and nerubians standing in the rubble, the victory was bittersweet. So many people were dead and large parts of the most populous city in the Eastern Kingdoms lay in ruins, but Korialstrasz was just glad that it was finally over.

“Archbishop!”

Korialstrasz was pulled from his thoughts by a panicked cry and turned to the source only to see Archbishop Faol collapse onto the ground. The surrounding mortals were crying sorrowfully and attempting to administer aid, but Korialstrasz could tell that the old man was no longer breathing.

He had poured his life force and soul into the final attack against the C’thrax, sacrificing himself to save many more.

At that moment, Korialstrasz was once again reminded of the great lengths mortals, despite their fragility, would go to for the sake of others.

Chapter Text

Krivax could feel his heart pounding wildly as he waited for the enemy forces to walk down the tunnel. A group of three pale orcs was studying their surroundings carefully, but they suffered from the same failing that many non-nerubians faced.

They never look up.

The moment that they passed under him, Krivax dropped down from the ceiling and landed directly on top of the rearmost orc. While he mainly relied on magic when it came to combat, that didn’t change the fact that Krivax was a ten-foot-tall spider person that weighed more than three hundred pounds. When the sharp ends of his sleek spider legs struck the orc’s skull, it immediately pierced through and the orc fell dead onto the ground. He immediately followed up his surprise assault by casting a wave of ice around him that rooted the remaining orcs to the ground before quickly impaling them with frozen spikes.

Krivax was already running down the tunnel before the final orc’s body even hit the ground.

I need to get back to the group!

After the tunnel entrance team had retreated underground, the battle continued to go well for them at first. Their traps had ripped the orcs apart and they easily turned the tunnels into a killing field that the Horde was unable to overcome. Everything had gone exactly according to plan… until it became clear that the ambient Void was making it far more difficult for Crinis to open a portal than expected.

They had many powerful mages in their group, but their stamina wasn’t inexhaustible and the Horde was proving to be utterly relentless. Their group had begun taking their first casualties when a two-headed ogre had unexpectedly thrown a massive fireball into a group of exhausted Dread Stalkers. After that, they fell back to a secondary defensive position until they eventually lost Archmage Drenden to the unending flood of orcs, ogres, and void creatures.

The Archmage had taken down many orcs with him, but his final spell also collapsed the tunnel and ended up separating Krivax from the rest of the group. His only saving grace was that the jormungar had dug out several paths leading to the main chamber and that his knowledge of geomancy helped him to remove minor obstructions in the tunnels. Otherwise, Krivax would have probably found himself stuck with no way to get out.

He had spent the past few minutes frantically running toward the nearest sounds of battle and fighting off any enemy that he came across. Fortunately, Krivax was confident that he was now fairly close to his allies.

He was proven right as he turned around the next corner and noticed the few Dread Stalkers hanging from the ceiling, prepared to ambush anything that came through the tunnel. Krivax nodded to them in acknowledgment and relief as he made his way into the main chamber and swiftly took in the state of the group.

Several Dread Stalkers and Viziers were in position on the ceilings around the other tunnel entrance while Archmage Karlain and Archmage Arugal cast deadly area-of-effect spells at groups of incoming enemies from range. The other mages and fighters were taking the respite to tend to their wounds with healing potions and recovering their stamina. From what he could tell, Archmage Ansirem was speaking intensely with Vizier Crinis to figure out how much longer it would take for her to open the portal.

The chamber itself was covered completely in arcane glyphs related to spatial magic, and Krivax could sense dense arcane energies flowing through and around Crinis, even as she spoke to Ansirem.

Krivax was suddenly pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the familiar face of Masruk, who was currently tending to a wound on his abdomen. He immediately made his way over to his friend and began examining his body for injuries. “Masruk! Are you hurt? How bad is it?”

“Krivax. You survived,” said Masruk, voice filled with relief. “I feared the worst when the tunnels collapsed, but I’m happy to see that you’re well. My wounds are minor, merely a few cracks in my carapace that should disappear quickly once treated with a healing potion.”

Krivax only relaxed when he saw that his friend was not downplaying his injuries. “That’s good. I’m glad to see that you’re alright as well. How bad is the current situation? I can see that we lost a few more Dread Stalkers while I was gone. Is there any news about the fight above? I hope that Vizier Hadix will be able to get his hands on the Dragon Soul soon.”

“These orcs are as fearsome as Anub’rekhan told us,” Masruk admitted with grudging respect. “Their attacks have been ceaseless despite their immense casualties, and our forces are slowly being exhausted. Vizier Saltik was lost to a sudden attack by a group of ogres. I hope that Vizier Crinis will be able to open the portal soon so that we can receive reinforcements, or make a hasty retreat if necessary.”

“Vizier Crinis’ best estimate is that she should be done within the next ten minutes,” Archmage Ansirem announced to the mages and fighters in the cavern, nodding to Krivax as he walked over to the two of them. “Krivax, I’m relieved to see that you survived the tunnel collapse.

“Thank you, Ansirem. Do you think we’ll be able to hold out long enough for Crinis to finish her casting?” Krivax asked worriedly.

“Almost certainly. Our group includes many powerful individuals and the Horde forces are significantly restricted by the tunnels,” Ansirem answered reassuringly before his expression turned grim. “There may be more casualties and the constant stream of attacks will wear us down. Even after the portal is opened, we’ll need to fight our way back to the surface, which won’t be easy. I want all fighters and mages to rotate in and out of combat to conserve our stamina.”

“I see. Do we have any plans for that when the time comes?” asked Krivax, glancing toward the group that was still defending the tunnels. He sincerely doubted that they would be able to push back the Horde with just their current forces.

“We do. Archmage Karlain has been saving a few of his more potent alchemical concoctions. I’m also hoping that whichever dragon comes to deliver the fragment of Deathwing will be able to help,” said Ansirem, causing Krivax to let out a breath of relief. “But enough of that. Anyone who has recovered should join the group at the tunnel entrance. I suspect that the black dragons can sense Vizier Crinis’ casting nearing completion, and are likely to send even more of their forces to stop us.”

Krivax nodded to Ansirem and began making his way with Masruk at his side over to the tunnel entrance to join the rest of the defenders. After taking a moment to create a few webs that he could use to climb up to the ceiling if he needed to, he took position next to the other mages. Krivax immediately launched a bolt of ice at one of the orcs in the distance, only to let out a grunt of frustration when the creature hid behind one of the corpses littering the tunnel.

I’m really glad I can’t smell anything through the wards. All of these corpses must smell absolutely disgusting…

Krivax lost himself in the rhythm of battle as a constant stream of Horde forces made their way down the tunnels.

The nerubians frequently used the terrain to their advantage, causing stone spikes to erupt from the sides with their geomancy and using their webs to slow down the enemy's advance. Whenever the Horde grew too numerous, Archmage Karlain threw out some kind of terrifying alchemical bomb to kill large numbers of them, which were doubly effective within the close confines of the tunnel. One seemed to release a lingering gas that turned any flesh that it touched into stone while another released a burst of arcane energy that caused violet crystals to grow from the enemy’s bodies. At one point, Ansirem pulled out a gem from his spatial bag that produced a thin beam of fire that melted through an ogre’s torso, quickly bisecting it.

Archmages are really scary, Krivax thought to himself as he threw a ball of silk at an orc that immediately exploded with arcane energy and blew a hole in its chest.

Despite this, the Horde’s assault started to increase in intensity. When a group of two-headed ogres began charging down the tunnel with a flood of orcs following behind them, Krivax gulped nervously and felt his hands start to shake. Many of the orcs were killed by a particularly nasty geomancy spell that shredded them with a volley of rocks that tore through them like bullets, but the ogres protected themselves with crudely made arcane barriers. Unfortunately, one of them got close enough to hit their front lines with a massive burst of arcane magic that sent a few of the Dread Stalkers flying and knocked Krivax to the ground.

Krivax pulled himself together just in time to see one of the two-headed ogres snarling down at him and swinging its enormous club at his side. Taking full advantage of his alchemically enhanced reaction time, Krivax quickly created a barrier of ice around his body that was promptly smashed apart as he was knocked several feet back.

Thankfully, the protective bracelet that was given to him by Hadix as well as his highly enchanted robes meant that the blow merely broke the carapace on one of his arms rather than turn him into nerubian paste.

The chamber had broken out into a disorganized free-for-all. Krivax briefly glanced around him to keep track of any other opponents near him, before turning his full attention back to the ogre. He was confident that the Archmages and Dread Stalkers would be able to kill off the enemy eventually and restore order, but he couldn’t afford to allow himself to become distracted.

As the ogre charged at him, Krivax turned the ground beneath their feet into thick mud and launched a lance of ice at their knee once they began to sink down. The spell accurately hit the target and the two-headed ogre bellowed in pain as the magic pierced their knee and froze the mud around their leg.

Before Krivax could celebrate, the two-headed ogre launched a missile of arcane energy in his direction and easily pulled its leg from the frozen earth with an impressive display of strength. Surprised by the unexpected attack, Krivax frantically created a barrier of stone and ice to block the arcane missile and only barely had enough time to jump back as the ogre swung his club at his head.

The ogre attempted to chase after him, but Krivax took advantage of his superior maneuverability to climb up a nearby web and avoid the creature. Once he wasn’t in imminent danger of being smashed to pieces, Krivax reached to his abdomen and grabbed one of his spellweaves.

Let's see how well this one works…

Once the ogre had drawn close enough, Krivax channeled his magic through the silk and activated the spellweave. A large net of silk immediately erupted from his hand and wrapped itself around the ogre’s entire body before beginning to glow with arcane magic. Krivax watched as the ogre’s flesh turned gray as all of the heat was sucked out of its body and funneled into the net wrapped around its body.

Not bad.

While the spellweave wasn’t one that Krivax had invented himself, it was still fairly advanced and it had taken him a decent amount of time to properly learn it. Once the victim was ensnared by the web, it was extremely difficult for them to free themselves in time as they lost energy and were rapidly frozen solid.

Confident that the ogre wouldn’t be escaping, Krivax turned his attention to the rest of the battlefield. Both of the other ogres had already been killed by the Archmages and the rest of the Horde was in the process of being pushed back. A few of the Dread Stalkers had been killed, but Masruk looked to be alright and was currently spearing through a Void-corrupted monster that had jumped at Archmage Karlain.

Krivax was just about to join them when his attention was suddenly drawn to Vizier Crinis as a massive pulse of arcane magic flowed through the chamber.

Finally!

Krivax felt a surge of relief as several squads of Kirin Tor War Mages immediately poured through the portal and joined the fight. The War Mages were both experienced and well-rested, so it didn’t take long before they slaughtered every enemy in the chamber and began pushing them back into the tunnels. Krivax walked over to the tunnel defenders, who were all taking the opportunity to catch their breath, and began drinking a healing potion that he had retrieved from his spatial bag.

It wasn’t exactly healthy to continuously use so many alchemical items in such a short amount of time, but he couldn’t exactly afford to leave one of his arms broken.

Once the situation was under control, the leader of the War Mages broke off and made his way over to Ansirem before saluting the Archmage. “Sir! I am Arcanist Commander Nathanial Blackwood. I and my men were ordered to provide assistance as soon as the portal was opened and receive a briefing on the mission objectives from the highest-ranking member of the Kirin Tor available.”

“Well met, Commander Blackwood. You have no idea how glad we are to see you and your War Mages,” Ansirem said in relief before his expression turned to confusion. “I’ll give you a briefing as quickly as I can, but I’m somewhat confused. I was under the impression that Archmage Cedric would be the one leading our reinforcements.”

Commander Blackwood visibly hesitated for a moment but eventually responded. “Archmage Cedric was called away to assist with some kind of emergency in Capital City. I’m not certain about the details, but some of my mages have heard people saying that the city is under attack. Things were beginning to grow very chaotic once I left, Sir.”

Krivax felt his heart drop at the news. It couldn’t be the Horde, so Deathwing must have sent whatever Void monster he unleashed to attack Capital City. There wasn’t anything that they could do to help, so he simply hoped that Krasus would be able to prevent the monster from causing too many casualties.

“I see. Then we should finish this mission as quickly as possible so that we can return to help Capital City,” Ansirem said solemnly. “Listen carefully, Commander. We don’t have much time.”

Ansirem hurriedly gave the Commander an overview of the situation. He didn’t go too deeply into the details, but he explained enough for the Commander to know what needed to be done and the kind of forces that his mages would be facing. Although he was visibly taken aback by what he was hearing, the man was obviously a professional and quickly accepted his circumstances.

“Understood, Sir! My mages and I will help clear you a path to the surface.”

Ansirem nodded in approval before responding, “Good. Please do so, Commander. There’s no sense in wai—”

Krivax’s attention was pulled away from the conversation as the figure of an injured night elf in green clothes stumbled through the portal and into the chamber. The sight initially confused him until he suddenly realized that the night elf must be a green dragon. Krivax looked down and saw that the night elf was grasping tightly onto a black half-broken scale.

One of the nearby mages tried to offer the injured dragon a healing potion, but he quickly brushed them off and used Nature Magic to close his own wounds before turning to address Ansirem. “Greetings mortals. I am Eranikus, consort of Ysera, and I’ve brought with me one of Deathwing’s scales. Have you secured the Dragon Soul?”

“We don’t know. Our most powerful members are still on the surface fighting Cho’gall and the black dragons. Cho’gall was still in possession of the Dragon Soul when we were forced to retreat, but that may have changed,” Ansirem said solemnly.

“Then we must retrieve it as quickly as possible,” said Eranikus, his voice filled with urgency. “Deathwing realized our intentions once I took his scale and began escaping toward the portal. The Aspects are doing everything in their power to hold him off, but he is extremely powerful. I fear that time is not in our favor.”

“Understood. The War Mages are already pushing back the Horde and clearing a path, but many of us have been wounded and exhausted. Is there anything that you can do to help?” asked Ansirem, his expression hopeful.

“Much of my magic has been expended, but I should be able to aid you,” said Eranikus after a moment of hesitation. The dragon then closed his eyes and began casting a spell that filled the entire chamber with potent nature magic and glitters of moonlight.

Krivax could feel a sense of tranquility flow through him as his aches were washed away and any injuries that he had left were healed. A quick glance confirmed that everyone else was also being healed by Eranikus’ magic, much to his amazement. This level far outstripped anything that they would have gotten from a potion and seemed like something that only someone like Archbishop Faol could have done.

After casting the rejuvenation spell, Eranikus immediately slumped over with visible exhaustion. “It is done, mortals. Your wounds should be healed and your stamina restored. I will do my best to assist you in destroying the Dragon Soul, but the majority of the fighting will have to be done by your forces.”

Once that was done, Eranikus handed the scale to Ansirem as he intended to help fight the black dragons in his true form once they reached the surface. It would obviously be too much of a risk for them to bring the scale where it could potentially be stolen from them, so it would need to be kept in the tunnels near the surface.

Ansirem thanked the green dragon for his assistance and passed the scale over to Archmage Karlain for safekeeping. He then hurried to organize everyone into two groups.

One group was assigned to stay behind to secure the chamber and another group was assigned to push through the tunnels back toward the surface. It wasn’t long after that Krivax was fighting alongside everyone else as they ascended through the tunnels while killing everything that got in their way. With the end of their mission finally in sight the Archmages no longer had any reason to continue conserving their stamina.

The path in front of them turned into a blazing inferno as the mages let loose a constant stream of fire that melted everything in their path. Krivax contributed to this with his geomancy while doing his best to step over the many half-melted corpses that they passed along the way. There were a few ogres who attempted to charge through the inferno, but each of them was swiftly dispatched by a flurry of arcane missiles.

After several minutes of this, Krivax eventually spotted the exit to the surface and heard the loud roars of dragons over the commotion of battle. Once they made the final push and finally stepped foot back into the Twilight Hammer camp, Krivax was greeted by the sight of a hellscape.

Much of the camp had been reduced to rubble and was littered with corpses. Huge portions of it were currently on fire, but everything around Grand Magus Antonidas had been completely flooded by a massive water elemental that was doing its best to drown Onyxia, who was covered with wounds.

Anub’rekhan was glowing brightly with the Light as he continued to trade blows with Nefarian, but one of his arms lay limply to his side and the jormungar had been torn completely in half, its acidic blood pooling on the ground. Nefarian was limping badly and his tail looked crooked.

Sabellian, who was attempting to drown out Prince Kael’thas and Archmage Kel’thuzad in magma, was badly scorched with cracked scales. Prince Kael’thas and Archmage Kel’Thuzad were shielding themselves with powerful arcane wards, but both of them were obviously growing tired.

And to top it all off, there was a massive field of flailing tentacles coming out of the ground in the direction that Krivax had last seen Hadix. He was barely able to sense the occasional flare of arcane magic through the sea of Void magic being produced by whatever Cho’gall had done

“Ansirem, I can sense bursts of magic coming from Vizier Hadix in that direction,” said Krivax, pointing toward the tentacles. The rest of the group spread out as they left the tunnels and began taking defensive formations. “If he doesn’t already have the Dragon Soul, then it will still be with Cho’gall.”

“I agree. Fighting our way through all of that won’t be easy, but it needs to be done,” said Ansirem after taking a moment to study the Void-corrupted area before turning to the leader of the War Mages. “Commander Blackwood, split up your war mages into two groups. One to defend our rear from the Horde and the other to help us carve a path through those damned tentacles.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Before Ansirem could give any more orders, Nefarian suddenly turned his gaze to their group and spotted Eranikus. Deathwing’s eldest son let out an earth-shattering roar that was returned in kind when the green dragon shed his mortal guise and flew directly at Nefarian. The Horde forces immediately went into a frenzy as every surviving pale orc, ogre, and Void-corrupted abomination in the camp threw themselves at their group.

“Everyone, move!” Ansirem shouted over the chaos.

Krivax stayed close to the group as they fought their way through a sea of enemies while moving toward the Dragon Soul. He didn’t know if the black dragons had been able to guess their plan exactly, but they probably had a good enough idea because all three of them were trying to escape their opponents and intercept their group. Not only that, but the Horde forces fought with a renewed sense of ferocity.

Grand Magus Antonidus, Prince Kael’thas, and Archmage Kel’thuzad all seemed reinvigorated by the reinforcements and started to opportunistically strike at the flying black dragons while also casting wards to protect the assault group. Anub’rekhan used the opportunity to heal himself with the light and charged back to assault the black dragons using his locust swarm.

Krivax froze a Void-corrupted dwarf to the ground as a pale orc leaped over the Dread Stalker in front of him, only to be immediately skewered by Masruk. Not having the opportunity to thank his friend, Krivax threw a spellweave into another group of enemies that caused several icy spikes to erupt from the ground and pierce through their bodies. Krivax cast a second spell that made the spikes forcefully explode and rip apart the nearby orcs with shrapnel.

The Archmages in the group constantly let loose a flurry of devastating spells that helped clear the way as they charged forward. Several of the Dread Stalkers and War Mages were ruthlessly pulled from the formation and torn apart by the enemy within seconds, but nobody allowed the gruesome displays to slow them down.

Once they finally reached the field of flailing tentacles, Magister Rommath summoned a huge phoenix made of fire that flew ahead of them and burned many of the tentacles to ash, only for them to begin growing back almost immediately.

“Move forward, and don’t hesitate!” Ansirem called out.

Their group began to take on more casualties almost immediately after they moved into the Void-corrupted area. While the Horde forces were able to move nearly unimpeded, the tentacles attempted to wrap themselves around anyone else who passed by. All the while their minds were attacked constantly by the whispers of the Void. Krivax saw one of the tentacles reach toward one of Masruk’s legs and instantly froze it solid before it could get a good grasp.

They eventually succeeded in making their way to a clearing where Hadix and Archmage Modera, both of whom looked as if they were barely keeping themselves upright, were frantically fighting Cho’gall.

The ogre was several feet taller than the last time Krivax had seen him and his body was also covered completely in eyes while his second head screamed constantly in some strange eldritch language. Cho’gall was constantly throwing bolts of Void energy at Hadix as he did his best to smash Modera with his hammer.

Most importantly, Hadix had retrieved the Dragon Soul and fastened it to his abdomen with some of his silk.

“Vizier Hadix!” Krivax called out as he launched a barrage of arcane missiles at Cho’gall, who blocked them with contemptuous ease using a barrier made of Void energy.

The other mages must have taken that as a signal because they then launched their own flurry of spells at Cho’gall, allowing Hadix and Modera to safely break away for a moment and make their way over to the group.

“I’m glad to see that you’re still alive, apprentice,” said Hadix as soon as he was close enough to be heard. With pleasantries seemingly over with, he then turned his attention to Ansirem. “I assume that you must have secured a fragment of Deathwing, correct?”

“We did. The scale is being held near the entrance to the tunnels,” said Ansirem before glancing at the artifact sticking to Hadix’s abdomen. “You managed to get the Dragon Soul. Good. I’ll leave a few of my men to hold off that monster while you take it to the scale.”

“No. Cho’gall is too powerful and your men don’t have my experience with fighting the Void,” said Hadix as he carefully removed the Dragon Soul and handed it over to Ansirem. “Leave behind one of the Archmages and send the rest to escort this to the tunnels. The faster that it’s destroyed, the better.”

Without waiting for a response, Hadix left them behind and returned to his fight with Cho’gall. Ansirem ordered Archmage Arugal to assist Hadix and Modera before sending the rest of the group back in the direction that they came. The second trip through the tentacle forest was worse than the first as they had already suffered significant casualties and had one less Archmage to help them keep the path clear.

The most powerful mages that they had left were Ansirem and Magister Rommath, both of whom were starting to grow tired.

“We’re nearly there! It’s not much farther now!” Ansirem yelled in an attempt to motivate them. The Horde’s numbers were beginning to dwindle and the path ahead was clearer than it was previously.

Unfortunately, Nefarian chose that moment to send Eranikus crashing into Anub’rekhan with a swipe of his tail and break away toward them.

Shit!

Krivax felt his life flash before his eyes as Deathwing’s eldest son opened his maw and spat a massive stream of lava in their direction that was only barely blocked by an arcane barrier created by Ansirem and Magister Rommath. The two of them visibly struggled against the onslaught, but they succeeded in holding it off once the War Mages added their power.

“Vizier Krivax! Take the Dragon Soul and bring it to Archmage Karlain with the rest of the nerubians!” Ansirem called out, shocking Krivax out of his immobility. “Your people are much faster than the rest of us and have the best chance of making it!”

Krivax very much wanted to argue and question the wisdom of this decision out of fear, but he didn’t. There was no time for hesitation.

Instead, he took the Dragon Soul from Ansirem, ignored the powerful ancient magic flowing through the artifact, and began sprinting across the battlefield with Masruk and the remaining Dread Stalkers by his side. Although Viziers weren’t quite as fast as the nerubian warrior caste, they were still much faster than any human.

Several orcs attempted to stop them, but their efforts were about as effective as if they had jumped in front of charging cavalry. Onyxia and Sabellian both attempted to intercept them, but the other Archmages didn’t allow either one of them to escape.

A two-headed ogre tried to directly throw their body at Krivax to slow him down, which forced him to use his last remaining spellweave. Krivax didn’t bother to slow down as the ogre was suddenly teleported a hundred feet into the air before falling to their death.

Just as Krivax was beginning to believe that he would be able to make it unimpeded, he suddenly found himself falling to the ground as Nefarian slammed his tail into the ground and shook the earth. It was only thanks to his own training with geomancy and enhanced reflexes that Krivax was able to leap to the side and avoid being skewered by the massive earth spike that erupted beneath him.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite quick enough to prevent one of his legs from being crushed by the next one. If it weren’t for Anub’rekhan smashing into Nefarian’s side horn first, Krivax had no doubt that the next spike would have finished him off. He wished that he could say that he handled losing one of his limbs gracefully, but anyone close enough to hear him scream would have known that was a lie.

Krivax barely managed to fight through the pain and handed the Dragon Soul over to Masruk and sent him off to bring it to Archmage Karlain. His friend hesitated for several long moments, but he eventually ran off toward the tunnels with the Dragon Soul in hand.

Everything after that was a blur as a few of the Dread Stalkers attempted to carry him to safety while tending to the bleeding with healing potions. Krivax was far too distracted by the pain to truly understand what was really going on.

That only changed when a vast wave of magic exploded across the battlefield from the tunnels and the black dragons suddenly roared in maddened fury. Krivax could sense four extremely powerful streams of colorful magic fly up into the air and travel toward the horizon.

We did it…

Krivax regained consciousness as he was pulled aside for healing by Eranikus. From Masruk’s relieved and rapid speech, Krivax learned that the black dragons had all successfully retreated shortly after the Dragon Soul was destroyed and everyone else got together and went to face off against Cho’gall. The ogre had lasted longer than expected, but there was no way that he could survive against such powerful enemies on his own.

His end came ingloriously as he was skewered and dismembered.

Hadix insisted on removing both of the ogre’s mutated heads and burning every inch of Cho’gall to ash. According to him, creatures that had been corrupted by the Void to such an extent had a tendency to survive even the most deadly of wounds and he didn’t want to risk leaving anything behind.

Once their wounded had been healed enough that they were out of immediate danger, the group gradually began retreating to the portal. The destruction of the Dragon Soul had done nothing to deter the Horde from wanting to tear them all to pieces and so they needed to make a hasty retreat.

“Rest apprentice. Your part in this is done,” said Hadix as he carried Krivax to the portal on a floating platform of arcane magic.

Seeing no reason to disagree, Krivax stopped fighting to stay alert and allowed himself to slip back into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Malygos hurried to form an arcane shield around his body as he was violently knocked out of the sky and sent hurtling toward the ground. On top of this shield, he quickly layered a heat-resistant ward to protect himself from the molten landscape that had replaced the stretch of land that had once been filled with forests.

Malygos crashed down into the ruined earth and quickly teleported away to avoid being skewered as Neltharion caused a massive stone spike to erupt where he had landed. He then warped the space around him so that the stream of Void-infused lava directed to where he reappeared twisted around him instead of burning him alive.

Manipulating space was significantly more difficult with the high density of Void energy in the area, but Malygos was the Aspect of Magic. If they were still at an earlier part of their confrontation with Deathwing, he would have likely made the effort to taunt his corrupted brother, but Malygos had to devote all of his focus to just surviving.

It had been easier at first when Neltharion had not fully understood what was happening and was still toying with them. Malygos and his siblings had focused their efforts on finding an opening that they could use to tear off a fragment of Neltharion, but they hadn’t initially been able to find one.

Things started to get worse once whatever Void monstrosity Neltharion unleashed began causing a significant number of mortal deaths, successfully distracting Alexstrasza and her consorts. It was only when a powerful beacon of Light had flared up in the sky and vanquished Neltharion’s monstrosity, momentarily diverting his attention, that they were able to find an opening.

Alexstrasza’s eldest consort, Tyranastrasz, had immediately snapped his jaws around Neltharion’s leg to hold him in place, which had allowed Malygos to launch himself onto the corrupted Aspect’s back. He had then unleashed a massive explosion of arcane magic that devastated everything in the vicinity and successfully tore a scale from Neltharion’s back.

After Ysera’s consort promptly grabbed it and took it toward the portal, their intentions had been extremely obvious. Neltharion no longer hesitated with his attacks from that moment forward.

Malygos could still hear Alexstrasza’s pain-filled scream as her eldest consort’s head was ripped from his body and his corpse was thrown into a newly formed river of lava.

Neltharion’s subsequent rampage had upended the earth for miles around, and likely caused quakes that could be felt throughout the northern portion of Tirisfal Glades.

It had taken everything that Malygos and his siblings had to avoid being killed. With most of their power still being held in the Dragon Soul, they were all significantly weaker than Neltharion, as much as it galled him to admit.

Malygos watched as an emerald green portal appeared behind Neltharion and several enormous vines emerged from it and wrapped themselves around the corrupted Aspect, interrupting his attack. Neltharion had most likely destroyed the land with the intention of disturbing Ysera’s nature magic, but she was no common druid.

Unfortunately, it only took a few moments for Neltharion to break free in an explosion of Void magic that mutated and killed the vines holding him. Malygos summoned hundreds of arcane missiles that struck Neltharion from every direction, but the hateful bastard merely ignored them and stepped through the Void to appear behind him in an instant.

It was only due to the fact that Nozdormu had predicted the attack and slowed down Neltharion’s claws that Malygos managed to avoid having his throat ripped open.

Just as Malygos teleported away, Alexstrasza unleashed a massive ball of fire infused with life magic that tore through the Void surrounding Neltharion and actually made him stagger.

How much longer are those mortals going to take?!

“Your efforts are worthless! The Titans have abandoned us and the Void’s domination over this world is inevitable!” Neltharion roared as he launched ravenous torrents of Void toward each of the Aspects. “Do you truly believe this world can defend itself from the forces that wish to control it?! From the Old Gods? From the Burning Legion? Your stubborn loyalty to absent gods serves to help nobody!”

Malygos ignored Neltharion’s insane ramblings and immediately breathed out a wave of pure arcane magic that only barely succeeded in pushing back the Void. In order to buy enough time for him and his siblings to regroup, he instantly created several dozen illusions in the air of each Aspect while simultaneously turning himself, his siblings, and the remaining consorts invisible. All it took to bait the corrupted Aspect into focusing on the illusions was a quick application of telekinesis when one of Alexstrasza’s illusions attacked Neltharion’s back.

Malygos left Neltharion to his impotent rampage as he flew toward the rest of his siblings.

“I’m not certain how much longer we can keep this up,” said Ysera, her voice filled with exhaustion. “Nothing that we do to him seems to have any permanent effect. I had forgotten how much weaker we became when we lost the power bestowed on us by the Titans.”

“Ten thousand years is long enough for even us to grow accustomed to something,” said Alexstrasza as she began healing their wounds by directing Life-imbued flames toward their bodies. Even as his stamina was restored, Malygos felt a tinge of sympathy as he heard the barely contained grief still in her voice. “We will last for as long as we must. There’s nothing else to be done.”

“How much longer do we have to wait, Nozdormu?” questioned Malygos, glaring at his brother. “Ysera’s consort should have delivered the scale to them by now. Are those mortals actually going to succeed in destroying that cursed artifact, or are we simply wasting our time?”

“We won’t have to wait for much longer,” Nozdormu said with infuriating calmness. "The Void is going to great lengths to obscure my vision by drowning me in possible futures, but the Timeways have been solidifying toward a favorable outcome."

"And if you're wrong?" Maylgos asked challengingly.

“I have been before, but I doubt that is the case now. I’m confident everything will unfold as it should,” said Nozdormu, his eyes gazing off into the distance in the same way they always did whenever he was looking into the Timeways. “Though if I am wrong, then I suppose Azeroth’s fate will be a dire one, so let’s hope that isn’t the case.”

As usual, Malygos found himself annoyed by Nozdormu’s perpetual lack of concern. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough time to continue questioning the Aspect of Time, because Neltharion seemed to lose patience with the illusions before he could.

Malygos winced in pain at the magical backlash as all of his illusions were destroyed by the explosive burst of Void energy released by Neltharion. The Void assaulted his mind and ripped apart the spell hiding himself and the other Aspects seconds before Neltharion was launching himself at them while screaming more of his insane ramblings.

I hope this works.

Despite how it might have seemed to his siblings, Malygos hadn’t only spent the past few minutes recovering, but also preparing his unconventional attack. Throughout the entire fight, he had been gradually funneling his magic deep into the closest leyline and slowly seized control of its energies. It was only in the past few minutes that Malygos had taken enough control that he could successfully implement his plan. Such a thing would normally be impossible for even the most powerful of mages, but there was not a single soul on Azeroth more familiar with the world’s leylines than Malygos.

Just as Neltharion was about to reach them, Malygos pulled against the arcane magic flowing through the earth with all of his magical might.

Suddenly, with a deafening roar, the land beneath them shuddered and cracked as the leyline erupted upwards and unleashed an unfathomable amount of arcane energy that could likely be seen from miles around directly at Neltharion. Malygos was filled with malicious glee as his corrupted brother screamed in pain at the constant torrent of arcane energy ripping into his body and launching him half a mile away.

He knew that this wouldn’t be enough to kill Neltharion, but it should be enough to buy them all some time until the Dragon Soul was destroyed.

“Malygos, what did you do?” Alexstrasza asked in astonishment.

“We never had any chance to defeat him in a straight fight. That being the case, it should be obvious that I would plan something like this,” said Malygos, feeling more than a little smug. “A quick look at the Arcanomicon revealed to me that Neltharion had positioned his manor over a decently sized leyline. It was never something that I needed to do before, but it wasn’t difficult for me to devise a way to uproot one and direct its power elsewhere.”

“Won’t something like this cause long-term consequences for the region?” asked Ysera, observing the results of Malygos’ actions with curiosity. Even now, arcane crystals were beginning to emerge from the lava-covered landscape as the leyline’s energies spilled out onto the surface.

“Perhaps, but if the mortals succeed in destroying the Dragon Soul, then I will have my powers restored and I’ll be able to fix the problem at a later time,” Malygos said dismissively. “Besides, this should be enough to grant us the time we need.”

Unfortunately, it seemed like Neltharion loved nothing more than to make Malygos look foolish. Seconds after he finished speaking, the mountain that Neltharion had been launched into exploded as the corrupted Aspect reemerged.

Pieces of his body seemed to have cracked open, revealing streams of magma flowing beneath his skin. His eyes were completely aflame and he glared at Malygos with unending hatred.

It reminded him too much of how Neltharion looked when he had betrayed them all during the War of the Ancients, and Malygos barely prevented himself from losing his mind in an unwelcome depressive spiral. He also noticed that Neltharion’s body had begun to twist and deform as he pulled deeper from the Void, causing strange writhing appendages to emerge from random locations.

A part of Malygos expected Neltharion to continue his demented ravings, but that didn’t happen. Instead, Neltharion let out a guttural roar that echoed throughout the ravaged landscape to announce his unrelenting fury. The corrupted Aspected surged toward them with renewed ferocity, his molten body glowing brightly as he flew through the air.

Neltharion’s following onslaught was relentless. He tore through any barrier that Malygos could conjure as if they were mere annoyances and barreled through Ysera’s conjured vines like they didn’t exist. Nozdormu focused on creating openings wherever he could and slowing down Neltharion when he came close to landing a lethal blow, but Malygos could tell that his efforts were gradually growing less effective. If Alexstrasza had not been constantly healing them, there was no doubt that Neltharion would have killed them all within a few minutes.

Malygos winced as a jagged shard of molten rock pierced through his wing, the heat searing his flesh. Holding himself aloft with magic, he pushed the pain aside and focused entirely on the battle. Another one of Alexstrasza’s consorts had been incapacitated and knocked out of the sky as his wings were ripped from his body.

Just as Malygos was beginning to believe that none of them were going to survive to see the next day, his attention was drawn to the sound of Nozdormu releasing a breath of relief. Before Malygos could question his brother, his attention was suddenly drawn to the feeling of familiar thick ribbons of magic headed toward them from the east.

Judging by the sudden hush that had fallen over the battlefield, Malygos wasn’t the only one to sense what had happened.

“No!”

Neltharion’s roar was filled with a mix of rage and disbelief as a pulse of magical energy swept through the land. The Dragon Soul had been destroyed, and the power that had been stolen from the Aspects was returning to them.

Malygos watched as the four streams of power connected and strengthened them in ways that they had not felt for millennia, healing their wounds, and empowering them to great heights

I almost forgot what this felt like, Malygos thought as the strength bestowed upon him by the titans surged through his body.

Seeing no reason to wait for his siblings to adjust to their regained power, Malygos instantly created a powerful ward around the battlefield before anyone could react. Space twisted inward as everything within the ward was suddenly trapped in an isolated bubble of reality from which nothing could escape.

Neltharion was instantly snapped out of his disbelief as he sensed what Malygos had done and turned his gaze toward the Aspect of Magic.

“Do you remember what I promised you, Neltharion,” Malygos asked malevolently. The moment that he had been waiting for had finally arrived, and he could barely hold himself together as hatred and the desire for vengeance surged within him. “I told you that I would capture the memory of your life leaving your eyes and treasure it dearly. Please struggle, brother. I want this moment to last for as long as possible.”

Where before Nelharion was able to easily shrug off his attacks, this time his barrage of arcane missiles struck with devastating force, tearing through Neltharion’s molten hide and causing the corrupted Aspect to recoil in pain. Malygos grinned savagely as his siblings, now bolstered by their regained power, joined in the assault.

Alexstrasza flew toward Neltharion with speed far beyond what she could muster just a few moments ago and plunged her claws into his eye before ripping it out. It wasn’t like her to be so ruthless, but Malygos knew well the kind of pain that came with losing a consort, so he paid it no mind.

Neltharion roared in pain and attempted to breathe a stream of lava into Alexstrasza’s face, but his attack barely traveled a few feet before it was sent away to another period in time by Nozdormu. Despite the lava and arcane crystals still covering the battlefield, Ysera used her power to easily seed life into the landscape and cause an enormous jungle to emerge from the ground.

This time, Neltharion found it much more difficult to escape the vines entrapping him and Malygos gleefully decided to use the opportunity to taunt him. “How does it feel to finally face an enemy who is your equal after so long, Neltharion? How does it feel to know that this will be your last day alive? Do you feel helpless? Do you feel powerless?”

Malygos quickly summoned a spear of ice and launched it into Neltharion’s regenerating eye, destroying it once again.

“Whatever pain you feel pales in comparison to what I felt as I watched helplessly as my brother betrayed me and killed my family!” Malygos screamed, unleashing the repressed despair that had eaten at him for the past ten millennia as he continued to skewer Neltharion with an endless barrage of frozen spikes. “I trusted you! I’m the one who convinced our siblings to follow your plan and infuse our power into the Dragon Soul! And you used that same artifact to kill everyone I loved!”

Neltharion escaped from the vines holding him in a burst of fire before attempting to flee from the battlefield through the Void. His attempts failed as the ward isolating them from the rest of reality rebuffed him.

As Malygos and the other Aspects continued to tear into Neltharion, he savored the growing panic he could see in his corrupted brother’s eyes. Throughout the entire bloody ordeal, Malygos continued to yell out his hatred.

Eventually, he noticed that Neltharion’s wounds were beginning to regenerate much slower and that the battle likely wouldn’t be lasting for much longer. Not wanting to deal with Alexstrasza’s soft heart if matters continued this way for much longer, Malygos teleported above Neltharion and prepared to end it.

Reaching deep within himself, Malygos summoned every drop of power he could muster and unleashed it as a blinding beam of arcane energy toward Neltharion similar to the one he started the fight with. However, instead of merely carving through the earth and leaving the corrupted Aspect in a crater, this time the attack cleanly pierced through Neltharion’s throat and caused an explosion that seemed to rip the world apart.

For a moment, Malygos was afraid the attack had actually managed to kill the traitor. After all, he had sworn that he would watch the life leave his brother’s eyes and he had meant it.

Much to his relief, Malygos was able to spot Neltharion laying in a pool of his own foul blood once the dust began to clear, injured yet still very much alive. The hole in his throat would probably heal itself after some time, but Malygos had no intention of allowing that to happen.

Finally, the time has come.

Slowly descending from the sky with his siblings around him, Malygos landed harshly on top of his fallen brother and bent down to look him in the eyes. Neltharion coughed and spat blood that splattered on Malygos’ face, but he ignored it as he stared balefully at the person who had caused him more pain than anyone else on Azeroth.

“Do you have anything to say to me, brother?” Malygos asked, wondering what Neltharion would say in his last moments. Would he beg? Would he curse Malygos with his final breath? Would he perhaps offer some form of insincere apology for everything that he had done?

Unfortunately, life proved to be anti-climactic as Neltharion was able to do nothing besides cough up blood when he attempted to speak. Malygos regretted that his attack had not hit somewhere else on the traitor’s body, but he was unwilling to allow Neltharion the time to recover.

“I suppose this is an appropriately pitiful death for you, brother,” said Malygos as he raised his claw up high to deliver the finishing blow.

Malygos swung down with the intent to rip out the corrupted Aspect’s throat, but was suddenly caught off guard as Neltharion suddenly spat a glob of his corrosive void-corrupted blood into his eye. Malygos found himself being thrown backward as Neltharion pushed him away with an unexpected burst of strength before slamming his tail into the ground, shaking the earth and sending a massive cloud of dust into the air.

Malygos’ reaction was nearly instantaneous as he summoned a powerful gale of wind to disperse the dust, but neither he nor his siblings were quick enough to prevent Neltharion from diving into the earth as if he were a fish swimming through water. Despite the traitor’s apparent escape, Malygos didn’t panic.

His mind was not damaged enough for him to have forgotten Neltharion’s command over the earth. Naturally, the ward that he had cast to isolate this portion of reality extended into the ground.

“You merely delay the inevitable, brother,” Malygos muttered as he sent a pulse of arcane magic through the earth in search of Neltharion. It took several moments, but the spell eventually informed Malygos that his brother was still tunneling deep into the earth. “I’ve found you. Now let’s bring you ba—”

Just as he was about to cast a spell that would have violently pulled Neltharion from the earth and back to the surface, Malygos was suddenly struck dumb as his brother seemed to abruptly disappear. In complete disbelief, Malygos sent another pulse of arcane magic into the earth in search of Neltharion, only for the spell to find nothing.

Becoming increasingly frantic, Malygos ignored the concerned words of his sisters as he cast the same spell several more times before working his way through every scrying spell he could remember.

When everything that he tried failed to produce any results, Malygos resorted to tearing apart the ground beneath him by bombarding it with magic in fury. By the time had recovered from his hysteria, Ysera’s newly created forest had completely disappeared in the wake of his rampage.

Did he truly escape? ... How?

Malygos’ mind ran through every possibility, but he couldn’t think of anything that his ward should have been able to prevent.

When he turned his gaze to Nozdormu and saw the Aspect of Time watching him with a neutral expression, Malygos knew then that Neltharion had indeed escaped, and Nozdormu had known that such a thing would happen.

“Where is he?” asked Malygos, his voice promising violence if he didn’t receive a satisfactory answer.

“Deepholm,” Nozdormu answered, unperturbed by Malygos’ implied threats.

It took several moments for Malygos to sift through his fractured mind and recall everything he knew about Deepholm. It was the elemental plane that had been created by the Keepers to imprison Azeroth’s earth elementals. It was ruled over by Therazane the Stonemother and should be completely inaccessible to anyone from the outside.

Malygos had actually forgotten that Neltharion was capable of accessing this realm through his connection to the earth. He had only ever done so a few times throughout their entire lives, as there was little of interest there aside from bitter earth elementals.

After realizing that he could not safely reach Deathwing in Deepholm, Malygos immediately felt a wave of anger grow within him.

“And you let him escape?!” Malygos bellowed as he stomped toward Nozdormu. “Why didn’t you warn us that this could happen?”

“His abilities always meant that it was unlikely that we, even with our restored power, could have successfully prevented him from escaping to Deepholm if he wanted to,” Nozdormu explained. “Besides, you were the one who made the decision to prolong his death, brother.”

“Nozdormu. If your machinations prevent me from watching Neltharion die, then I swear upon my flight that I’ll make you regret this,” said Malygos, glaring at his brother.

“It’s not often that I find myself in agreement with Malygos, but he is right,” said Alexstrasza, making her way to his side with her remaining consorts at her side as she confronted the Aspect of Time. “Neltharion is far too significant of a threat to this world. I find it hard to believe that Azeroth’s future is better served with his survival today.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that it won’t be long before a path to Deepholm becomes available to us,” said Nozdormu, his gaze drifting off to look at something only he could see. “Now that I have regained my full power, there is much that I can see that was previously beyond me. I’m more confident than ever that this decision was the correct one, and I’m sure you all will share my opinion when the time is right. Until then, Neltharion is in no condition to act against us or Azeroth, needing time to recover from his wounds.”

“How long until this path is revealed to us?” asked Malygos, pushing down his anger at the promise of being able to finally end Neltharion in the near future.

“Not long. Merely a few more months,” Nozdormu said reassuringly.

“I intend to hold you to that,” Malygos promised. It ate away at him to have his immediate vengeance stolen away from him, but a few months was nothing more than a short nap for someone as old as him.

Nozdormu nodded to him in acceptance before turning his gaze toward the rest of their siblings. “In the meantime, there are quite a few matters that require our attention.”

“And what are those?” Ysera asked curiously.

“The first matter that we should attend to is the C’thrax that Neltharion sent to destroy Capital City,” Nozdormu as he idly picked up a unique-looking sword with his claws like a mortal might hold a toothpick. “And this will make our task quite a bit easier.”

“A C’thrax?! How much damage has it done?” asked Alexstrasza, concerned for the lives of the mortals who had to face such a being.

“Neltharion was forced to release it early, so it still hadn’t fully recovered by the time it reached Capital City. Korialstrasz and the mortals were able to successfully fell the monster through great sacrifice, but they lack the means to permanently slay it,” Nozdormu explained. “This sword was buried in its brain for millennia, which prevented it from recovering.”

The fact that the mortals were able to defeat even a weakened C’thrax was surprising to Malygos. Such beings were the epitome of the forces of the Old Gods and could not be underestimated.

Malygos studied the enchantments of the sword and was reluctantly impressed by the weapon. The conversation turned to Nozdormu giving an account of the C’thrax’s attack on the mortal city before moving on to plans to deal with its body, and what they would do afterward.

Nozdormu was insistent that he needed to return to his duties after noticing several plots being carried out by the Infinite Dragonflight that he hadn’t previously noticed. Ysera felt similarly about the Emerald Dream, as the Old Gods’ corruption had crept up in ways she wasn’t previously aware of. They would go to Capital City to assist with the C’thrax’s containment but would leave soon after.

That only left Malygos and Alexstrasza to deal with everything else and put an end to the mortal war currently ravaging the continent. One consolation of the current situation was that the mortals had become much more exposed to dragons due to Korialstrasz’s defense of their city. That meant that there was nothing to stop Malygos from simply teleporting them all into Capital City so that they could quickly deal with the C’thrax.

He had always found Alexstrasza’s insistence on non-interference to be troublesome, so he was glad that such a policy no longer had any point. Just as they finished their discussion and were about to leave, Alexstrasza stopped them.

“Wait a moment. Let me gather up Tyranastrasz’s remains. I will take him to his final rest,” said Alexstrasza, her voice consumed with sorrow.

Malygos nodded silently as he felt his own eyes begin to grow wet when his mind recalled memories of his own consort’s body lying on the frozen ground so long ago. Alexstrasza and her remaining consorts carefully gathered the remains of the dragon who had stood by her side for millennia before nodding toward Malygos to signal her readiness.

In a flash of violet light, the Aspects disappeared from the ravaged land.

Krivax carefully hobbled into his room on three legs, feeling absolutely exhausted.

After learning that they had successfully destroyed the Dragon Soul, he had expected his following days to be bright and filled with celebration for saving the world from Neltharion. That expectation was thoroughly crushed once he learned that large portions of Capital City had been destroyed by a giant Void abomination.

Archbishop Faol was dead, King Terenas had been heavily injured and was currently being tended to by the most skilled priests still alive, and casualties were estimated to be somewhere over a hundred thousand. Many of the kingdom’s nobles had been killed, and Lordaeron would be feeling the consequences of this event for a generation.

It was already bad enough that so many people had died, but Krivax knew with certainty that something like this had never happened in the original timeline. Without the changes that he had made, everyone who died in the attack would still be alive.

When Krivax thought about that, he could feel his thoughts begin to spiral with guilt and worry, so he just… did his best not to think about it at all.

Instead, he intended to focus on what he could actually do. Masruk was off helping with the emergency rescue operations happening throughout the city, and Krivax wished that he could find a way to help out as well. Unfortunately, that wasn’t very possible given the fact that he could barely even stand with one of his legs missing, but circumstances meant that he needed to begin planning immediately.

The Aspects had abruptly returned from their confrontation with Deathwing and killed the C’thrax in a slightly more permanent fashion by stabbing a strange sword into its brain and doing some kind of complicated ritual before Ysera and Nozdormu suddenly left. Malygos had claimed that the sword would prevent the C’thrax from awakening and the ritual would keep it from spreading its influence, but he needed to do some more research into the matter in order to deal with it completely.

The two remaining Aspects had informed the Kirin Tor and the nerubians that Deathwing had been defeated but had successfully escaped to Deepholm, the elemental plane of earth.

When Krivax heard that, he was filled with a sense of dread almost as bad as when he learned of the attack on Capital City. In the original timeline, Deathwing had also managed to escape to Deepholm at some point, only to return explosively after being further empowered by the Old Gods. That return had resulted in him tearing apart the world in an event referred to as the Cataclysm, something Krivax had no doubt would kill millions of people across Azeroth if it was allowed to happen.

The only thing preventing him from falling into a debilitating panic was the fact that Krivax had made efforts to prepare for this possibility.

No matter how much he had thought about it, there was never any way to guarantee that Deathwing would be killed before he could escape. Once he had come to that conclusion, Krivax had suddenly remembered that Deathwing wasn’t the only being around who could freely access Deepholm.

It had taken a lot of money to convince the Venture Company to go searching through the mountains of Khaz Modan given the ongoing war, but Azjol-Nerub was obscenely wealthy and Krivax didn’t find it very hard to quietly… direct funds towards research and search for facilities similar to Ulduar in the Eastern Kingdoms. He had almost expected that the general directions he had given them wouldn’t be enough, but the goblins had eventually succeeded.

Krivax quickly made certain that he was alone and reached into his spatial bag before pulling out a nondescript scroll of parchment. After taking a moment to carefully unroll the map that had cost Azjol-Nerub a small fortune, Krivax began making plans for his trip to the only Titan facility in the Eastern Kingdoms, Uldaman.

And the meeting with the Keeper that lay within.

Chapter Text

As Orgrim Doomhammer swung his hammer through the plate armor of a human knight and caved in their chest, he failed to feel the typical exhilaration he felt while in battle.

Instead, he was consumed by nothing but a sense of foreboding.

Ever since they had made landfall in the Hillsbrad Foothills, the war had not gone at all as Orgrim had planned. Despite the superior strength and ferocity of the Horde, the Alliance had proven themselves to be a far greater enemy than he had ever believed possible. That was especially the case once they began sending their monsters to kill the Horde’s brave warriors.

The spider creatures that the humans referred to as ‘nerubians’ were a nightmare to fight on the battlefield. Their arachnathids constantly ambushed Orgrim’s warriors from beneath the ground and swarms of their skitterers devoured fully grown orcs in less than thirty seconds. Their flyers caused constant problems for the Horde’s undead dragons and the standard nerubian soldiers charged through the Horde ranks as if they were human cavalry. They even possessed powerful mages who were more than capable of challenging the Horde’s own spell casters.

Despite all of that, no other variety of nerubian caused more problems for the Horde than the Spiderlords and their pet Jormungars.

Orgrim had seen more than a few battles lost because they lacked the ability to counter the hateful worms that the Alliance used to collapse the Horde’s defensive lines. If his people still had any shamans capable of communing with the elements, this wouldn’t have been a problem.

When he had first allied with Zul’Jin and the rest of the trolls, there had been a part of him that had hoped the troll priests and witch doctors would be able to help guide his people back to the spirits of the land. However, the elements remained silent to his people, and any hope he might have once possessed had already faded away.

The Spiderlords, on the other hand, were massive and intelligent behemoths. The nerubian giants tore through the Horde lines whenever they stepped onto the battlefield. Orgrim had long lost the ability to feel fear, but if he still could, he imagined that the Spiderlords would inspire such a feeling. Throughout the war, the only ones who had succeeded in killing the creatures were the Death Knight Teron Gorefield and that traitorous vermin Gul’dan.

At the thought of Gul’dan, Orgrim couldn’t help but let out a shout of rage as he crushed the skull of another human.

Once it became clear that their enemy was much more powerful than expected, Gul’dan had abandoned the Horde along with the entire Stormreaver clan and anyone else who would follow him at the first opportunity. Orgrim wanted nothing more than to hunt down the traitor, but that wasn’t possible when his Horde was being picked apart from every side.

The damned elves were making constant attacks while retreating behind their impenetrable barrier while the rest of the Alliance were constantly attacking them from the west. The gryphon-riding dwarves attacked them from the air along with the nerubian’s flyers, and Orgrim had even received reports that the Twilight Hammer clan’s camp had been destroyed far behind the front lines!

He had no idea how the Alliance had accomplished such a feat, but there simply wasn’t any time for him to learn more. The enemies of the Horde had smelt weakness and were attacking with the ferocity of a rylak.

Only recently, Orgrim had decided that any further attempts to attack the elves would be useless. The leader of their troll allies, Zul’jin, had argued furiously against the decision, but Orgrim needed to make the best choice for the Horde as a whole. Their food supplies were running out and an army as large as theirs could only be sustained if they were making constant progress. He had decided to direct the Horde toward Capital City and forage more supplies from the human territories. That ended their alliance with Zul’jin, and the trolls broke ties with them to continue their fruitless struggle against the high elves while the Horde moved on.

Unfortunately, progress had stalled.

The humans native to the Alterac Mountains were far more familiar with their land than they were, and the Alliance’s jormungars made passing through such terrain all but impossible. The path through the fertile farmlands known as Eastweald was much more open, but it had already been heavily fortified by the Alliance.

Recently, Orgrim had found himself being forced to face the possibility that the Horde might actually lose this war.

If such a thing was to happen, then there would truly be no hope for his people. Draenor was a slowly dying world that grew more hostile with every passing day, and Orgrim had no illusions that the Alliance wouldn’t take back every inch of land that his people had taken from them. If there was one thing that he had learned over the past few years on this alien world, it was that humans weren’t so different from orcs when angered.

If Orgrim were in their position, he would wipe every single member of the Horde from the face of the world so that they would never again become a threat. He didn’t know if the humans would go to such lengths, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

Orgrim was suddenly pulled from his thoughts as one of the humans took advantage of his distraction and carved a line through his arm with their blade. Feeling the familiar rush of anger and power flow through him, Orgrim roared in fury and swung his hammer with such strength that the human’s head completely left his body.

Enough of this!

Orgrim banished his weak thoughts and threw himself into the battle with a frenzied wrath. If his people were fated to die, then they would do so as true orcs should! Bloody and thrashing in the heat of battle with a weapon in their hand and fury in their heart!

Nobody would ever dare to say that the orcs had dishonored their ancestors by dying quietly. He would tear through the humans and leave a permanent mark on this world that would be remembered for ages to come.

Orgrim didn’t know how long it had been since he had lost himself in the bloodlust of battle, but he was only pulled back to reality when an earthshaking roar passed over the battlefield. When he looked up to see what manner of creature had caused such a sound, Orgrim once again felt the glimmering of fear for the first time since his people had been twisted by the magic of the warlocks.

Flying toward them was a massive red dragon far larger than any Orgrim had ever seen. He had participated in the Horde’s hunts when they drove Draenor’s Magnaron to extinction; at the time, Orgrim had thought he would never see a living creature larger than them.

He now knew he was wrong.

The creature’s mere presence caused a hush to fall over the battlefield until Orgrim pulled himself from his shock and shouted at his Death Knights to engage the beast. Given what the Horde had done to the corpses of its kin, there was no reason to doubt that the creature was an enemy.

The Death Knights hesitated for a moment, but eventually mounted their undead dragons and took to the skies. The undead mounts of the Death Knights were much smaller than the beast flying toward them, but Orgrim hoped that their superior numbers would be enough to bring the behemoth down.

More of their Death Knights had grown skilled enough to control the undead dragons over time, and Cho’gall’s disgusting book continued to lead them to useful corpses. The Horde was now in possession of eight undead dragons, which they used to great effect against the Alliance.

Unfortunately, it almost immediately became apparent to Orgrim that his Death Knights had no hope against the beast. With a furious glint in its eyes, the massive dragon inhaled deeply and released a breath of fire large enough to completely engulf half of the Death Knights and their mounts in flames, instantly reducing them to ash. A swipe of its claws held enough power to annihilate another two undead dragons, and a swing of its tail sent the last two crashing into the earth like meteorites.

The Horde’s most powerful weapons were destroyed in the span of a few breaths.

Orgrim was so shocked by the sight that he did nothing as the dragon flew in his direction and landed on the battlefield directly in front of him. A single beat of its wings created a powerful gale that sent every orc near it stumbling back. The enormous creature looked down at Orgrim for a few moments before it suddenly began to shrink, much to his confusion.

Once it was finished changing its shape, Orgrim found himself looking at a female elf that was significantly taller than any other that he had seen. She wore dark red armor with golden trimming and had two large horns emerging from his head. There was a heavy… presence about her that prevented the nearby orcs from approaching her as she walked toward Orgrim.

As soon as she drew close enough to be heard, the creature wearing the skin of a woman called out to him. “Are you Orgrim Doomhammer, Warchief of the Horde?”

“I am. Who are you, creature?” Orgrim asked as he held tightly onto his weapon.

“I am Alestrasza, Queen of the Dragons and Aspect of Life, and I’ve come to put an end to this war. Instruct your warriors to lay down their weapons,” the woman declared, her voice booming over the battlefield. “I swear that you will all be treated fairly as prisoners, despite the many atrocities you have committed against the mortals of this continent and your acts of desecration against my own kin.”

Orgrim almost wanted to laugh at the woman’s audacity. Instead, he simply grew angry.

“The Horde will never surrender! We conquered our entire world, and it is our destiny to conquer this one as well! If you mean to stand in our way, then we will destroy you just as we did every other obstacle in our path to glory, beast!” Orgrim bellowed before lifting his war hammer and charging the dragon woman with as much speed as could muster.

If the dragon was foolish enough to appear in front of him in such a weak form, then he had every intention of taking advantage.

Orgrim dashed to the so-called ‘Queen of the Dragons’ faster than most warriors would have been capable of and swung at the woman’s head. He knew that his attack carried enough force to even tear through hardened steel, so Orgrim expected the woman to either dodge to the side or have her head crushed like an egg.

Instead, Orgrim was struck dumb as the woman calmly raised a single hand and caught his hammer moments before it was about to strike her head. It felt to him as if he had just attempted to strike a solid plate of adamantite. He attempted to pull his weapon back, but the woman didn’t even stumble as he heaved with all of his strength.

“An impressive weapon. Forged within the heat of elemental lava and carrying with it powerful ancestral magic,” said the woman as she studied the weapon, Doomhammer, that had been passed down through Orgrim’s family for generations, not even seeming to notice Orgrim’s efforts. “After all the horrors that you have unleashed on the mortals of this land, I don’t believe you deserve such an artifact.”

Orgrim was helpless to do anything as the dragon woman easily pulled Doomhammer from his grasp as if he were a child and knocked him to the ground with a single swing to his stomach. He burned with humiliation as the dragon placed a single foot on his chest in front of the astonished gazes of his warriors. Orgrim tried desperately to push her off, but her strength was so immense that he felt as if he was trying to move a mountain.

“This war is over! Your Warchief lies defeated and you have no hope of victory. Your shadowy masters, the demons and black dragons, can not help you. If you value the lives of your family and of your children, you will surrender now!” the dragon woman called out, her voice easily traveling over the silent battlefield.

As his warriors continued to hold on to their weapons and glare unyieldingly at the woman, Orgrim couldn’t help but laugh. “You fool. The Horde will never yield to you. We would rather die with honor than live in cowardice!”

The woman looked down at Orgrim with something vaguely akin to pity. “If your people refuse to surrender, there will be no battle. There will be no honor. Instead, there will only be fire.”

Before Orgrim could reply, he was suddenly interrupted by the echoing chorus of distant roars. With dread, he looked to the source and saw nearly a hundred fully grown dragons flying toward the battlefield.

“What you see, Warchief, is a portion of the Red Dragonflight,” said the woman as she watched the approaching dragons with fondness.

A… portion? Orgrim thought with deep shock.

“The rest are attacking Horde positions elsewhere. They’ve been given orders to capture those who peacefully surrender but make no mistake, if you do not surrender then this entire army will become ash,” the woman said firmly, looking down at him with a weary gaze. “It would pain me deeply to end so many lives, but the Horde is a great threat to Azeroth and I am sworn to protect it. The choice is yours, Warchief. Will you lead your people to a swift end, or will you allow them the chance to live despite the many terrible things they have done?”

Orgrim was silent as he stared up at the approaching dragons and struggled with the choice presented to him. After some time, a wave of deep resignation flowed through him as he made his decision and nodded.

Ordering his generals to surrender was the most painful experience of Orgrim’s life, and the jubilant cheers of the Alliance only made it worse. The other chieftains were reluctant, but the threat before them was insurmountable and Orgrim swore to them that he would be the one to suffer the dishonor of surrender. After receiving such an assurance, they all began to throw down their weapons one after another.

As he was led away in chains, Orgrim couldn’t help but wonder what god he had offended for the Horde to be defeated in such a humiliating manner.

Staring straight ahead from the prow of the ship his minions had stolen from the Horde, Gul’dan could feel his excitement grow as he approached his destiny.

He was moments away from reaching the so-called ‘Tomb of Sargeras’ and seizing hold of the artifact that would transform him into a god. His journey had taken from far, from his beginning as a worthless cripple to the most powerful warlock to ever walk the face of Draenor. He had made deals with demons, orchestrated a war between his people and the Draenei, and corrupted the elements of Draenor so thoroughly that the world was irrecoverable.

All of this, Gul’dan had done in the pursuit of power, and it had been worth it.

His only regret was that he had allowed himself to be humiliated by the pitiful excuse for a Warchief, Orgrim Doomhammer. Unlike his even more pitiful predecessor, Blackhand, Doomhammer had never trusted him and took every possible opportunity to degrade and threaten Gul’dan.

He wished that he could see the look on the fool's face once he realized that Gul’dan had taken a sizable portion of his forces and abandoned the Horde. He knew that his actions didn’t have any particular impact on the outcome of the war—it was clear to anyone paying attention in the past few months that the Horde was going to lose—but Gul’dan knew that the Warchief must have been utterly furious regardless.

Their meaningless war didn’t matter. Once Gul’dan became a god, he would put both the Alliance and the Horde under his control. Kil'jaeden had made a mistake when he told him about this place, and Gul’dan fully intended to take advantage of the power contained within. According to the demon, the Tomb of Sargeras was currently beneath the waves near a chain of islands to the west of the Eastern Kingdoms.

It would take an act of extreme power to raise the tomb from the sea, but Gul’dan was confident in his ability to do so. After several more minutes of sailing, Gul’dan sensed the tomb's potent magical presence and ordered the members of the Stormreaver clan sailing the ship to bring them above it.

Just as he was about to begin the process of raising the tomb, Gul’dan could feel the furious presence of Kil'jaeden in his mind as the demon attempted to contact him.

He had grown powerful enough that the demon wouldn’t be able to form a magical connection with Gul’dan without his consent. Still, he felt like he would dearly enjoy the opportunity to mock his former master before his apotheosis, so Gul’dan allowed a weak connection to form between the two of them.

“Gul’dan, what have you done?” the enraged voice of Kil'jaeden bellowed in his mind. Faced with the demon’s anger, Gul’dan felt nothing but smugness and pride. “You were ordered to aid the Horde against the Alliance and prepare this world for our arrival! Yet you’ve abandoned them at the first opportunity in a mad attempt to seize power that you cannot hope to control? I’m disappointed in you, little orc. I did not think you were so utterly foolish.”

“Even with my help, the Horde was never going to defeat the Alliance,” Gul’dan responded, sneering at the arrogant demon. “If you thought they could last for long against those cursed insects, then you are a far bigger fool than I, Kil'jaeden. Besides, why should I resign myself to being your servant while your master’s corpse is so readily available? Once I absorb its power, there will be no force in this world capable of controlling me. You would be wise to reconsider how you speak to me, demon.”

“I have seen more of the cosmos than you could possibly fathom, Gul’dan. Yet I have only rarely seen anyone as arrogant and reckless as yourself,” said Kil'jaeden, his anger cooling into something more focused. “I had simply planned to quietly watch as the demons within the tomb tore you to pieces, but I had not expected there to be a new ward surrounding the tomb, or that you would so carelessly trigger it.”

Gul’dan’s felt his sneer drop as he heard the demon’s words. Kil'jaeden was not so stupid to utter such an easily verifiable lie, so he immediately cast a spell on his surroundings meant to reveal any hidden magic.

If he had been slightly less powerful, Gul’dan would not have been able to find the ward at all. Its presence was so insignificant that he could barely tell that it existed, yet once he actually managed to spot it, Gul’dan’s heart fell at the unfathomable potency of the arcane magic used to create it.

Whoever created this ward was powerful… too powerful.

“What is this, Kil'jaeden?! You said that the natives of this world wouldn’t be monitoring the tomb!” Gul’dan yelled out loud, not caring about his image as the Stormreaver orcs looked at him as if he was insane.

“They shouldn’t have been. The only mortal to know of this place was Medivh and his mother, Aegwynn. The only other being who could have knowledge of the Tomb would be Malygos, Aspect of Magic,” said Kil'jaeden, his voice smug as he savored Gul’dan’s panic. “He was not worth considering until recently, but the dragons should still not have had any reason to believe someone might attempt to access the tomb. I’m quite curious as to how they knew to expect you, Gul’dan. Perhaps you can ask Malygos while he’s slaughtering you and your worthless servants.”

Gul’dan didn’t want to believe the demon’s words, but the evidence of their truth was all around him. Now that he knew what to look for, he could practically sense a terrifying presence watching him through the wards.

Gul’dan ordered his followers to prepare for battle, but they had little time to do so before a swirling portal of violet magic opened on the deck of the ship. Out of it stepped what appeared to be a blue-haired elf with bright glowing eyes and scales, but Gul’dan could sense the truth behind the creature’s visage.

“Oh? You’re truly here then? How interesting,” the dragon said mildly, sweeping his gaze over Gul’dan and his servants.

“How did you know that I would be here?” Gul’dan furiously demanded as he prepared himself to throw Fel flame at the creature.

“You must be the Burning Legion’s latest puppet, Gul’dan. I have no intention of answering your questions, mortal. Die ignorant.”

Gul’dan was just barely able to redirect the spell that the dragon sent at him toward one of the nearby ogre magi. He watched in horror as the ogre’s flesh immediately crystalized and then shattered into dust. Without the slightest hesitation, Gul’dan ordered his servants to attack and kill the dragon.

He had gone to great lengths to be certain that those present would be utterly loyal to him, so Gul’dan was satisfied to see that they obeyed his orders without question. Their loyalty made it much easier for him to step back and focus on his connection to Kil'jaeden while the dragon carelessly slaughtered them.

“Demon! Grant me the power to slay this creature!”

Kil'jaeden’s response was both immediate and incredulous. “After such blatant betrayal, you still possess the audacity to ask me for power? Watching your death will give me nothing but pleasure, Gul’dan. What makes you believe for even a moment that I would grant you any amount of power?”

“Do you not wish to use this opportunity to kill one of the Burning Legion’s greatest enemies?” asked Gul’dan, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice as he watched the ongoing slaughter. At the rate the dragon was tearing through his servants, he had a mere few seconds before the creature turned its attention to him. “Grant me this power and I will use it to slay Malygos and open the Legion’s path to Azeroth!”

Through their connection, Gul’dan could feel Kil'jaeden's presence shift from mocking doubt to cunning thoughtfulness to malevolent satisfaction, all within the space of a heartbeat. Gul’dan wasn’t sure why, but at that moment his instincts told him that would come to deeply regret the plea that he had just made.

Before he could think about that feeling any further, Gul’dan suddenly felt a flood of Fel magic pour through the connection between him and Kil'jaeden. As more power than he had ever felt flowed through his body, Gul’dan felt as if his very body had transcended some barrier he had never known existed.

Turning to the dragon just as it killed the last of his servants, Gul’dan laughed uproariously and let forth a stream of Fel fire that turned everything between him and the dragon to ash. The corpses of the Stormreaver clan melted away in seconds and it seemed as if the entire ship had been set aflame.

It would be troublesome to raise the tomb once the ship was destroyed, but it was simply more important to kill the dragon with his full power.

Gul’dan knew intimately the power of Fel magic and that his fires had the ability to destroy everything that they touched, whether it be bodies, magic, or even souls. Nothing in this world could survive the power he now held at his fingertips!

“I would almost be impressed if this power was your own.”

To Gul’dan’s great shock, the dragon easily passed through the flames no being should have been able to survive, as the very space surrounding its body seemed to bend and twist the Fel fire away. Gul’dan roared in fury and increased the intensity of his flames, but the dragon ignored him.

“But you are merely a pathetic little vermin borrowing strength from those so far above you.”

Before Gul’dan could react, the dragon grabbed him by the throat and slowly lifted him into the air. As he struggled to breathe, Malygos pulled Gul’dan close and looked deeply into his eyes before speaking. “Now, let me see if everything that I’ve heard about you is accurate.”

Gul’dan attempted to scream in pain as his mind was ripped apart and his memories meticulously examined, but the hand around his throat prevented him from doing so. Eventually, the dragon retreated from his mind and looked at him with a sneer on his face.

“Disgusting. A single mortal allowed his selfish desires to doom an entire world to the Burning Legion? How utterly revolting. Die with the knowledge that you never had any hope of being anything more than the loathsome animal you always were.”

As his body was flooded with an incomprehensible amount of arcane magic and his flesh slowly turned to crystal, the last thing that Gul’dan did before he died was curse the world for being so unfair.

All the while, Kil'jaeden's laughter echoed in his mind.

Chapter Text

Krivax wondered if there had ever been a time in Capital City’s history during which the Cathedral of Lordaeron had been so occupied.

The nerubian delegation had been given prime seating near the front of the cathedral, a testament to how crucial Azjol-Nerub’s efforts were in fighting against the Horde. He was certainly glad for it because there was no chance that Krivax would have been able to get decent seating otherwise.

Every single seat in the massive cathedral had been taken as the people of Capital City arrived to attend Archbishop Faol’s funeral. The man had already been revered in life, but the sacrifice he had made to kill the C’thrax had turned him into a legend. The cathedral, which was already the largest in the Eastern Kingdoms, had actually needed to be spatially expanded to allow more people to pay their last respects to the Archbishop. There were even people gathered outside in the square in front of the cathedral who were listening in on the sermon and the funeral rites fervently through the open door.

Krivax had no doubt that processions of ordinary citizens would continue through the church to pay their last respects to the Archbishop for several days.

Every important person in Capital City, from the founding members of the Knights of the Silver Hand to the various rulers of the Eastern Kingdoms, made speeches after the funeral rites.

Currently, the newly appointed Archbishop Benedictus was giving his own passionate speech as he sang praises about his predecessor and mentor.

It was a miracle that the Church of Holy Light had been repaired and cleansed of any Void corruption in time for the funeral. The effort involved clearly showed that the rulers and bishops were deeply concerned about the morale of the citizens of Lordaeron. After suffering an attack severe enough to shake the foundations of the kingdom, Krivax assumed that the leadership was searching desperately for a way to reassure the people.

Countless lives had been lost, Lordaeron’s economy was nearing a state of collapse, and King Menethil was still comatose and unable to lead his people. Apparently, he had become severely contaminated by the spheres of concentrated Void thrown at the palace when the C’thrax attacked the city, and he had then become further injured by one of the many eldritch monstrosities it had created. The efforts to heal him were inhibited by the Void contamination, but he was lucky enough to have survived thanks to specially prepared potions supplied by Azjol-Nerub and the careful administration by priests wielding the Light.

Krivax was glad that the Order of Kal’tut had put a lot of effort into creating methods of healing Void-inflicted injuries, but there was a limit to what could be done.

Krivax was also affected by the low morale of the citizens in the city and had mixed feelings about the consequences of his decisions. He had kept going over what he could have done differently in his head and had been unable to come up with a clear answer.

“Krivax.”

“Huh?” Krivax snapped out of his thoughts and turned to see the troubled gaze of Masruk staring up at him.

“I was going to ask for your opinion of Archbishop Benedictus, but you failed to respond despite several attempts to gain your attention,” said Masruk, his expression one of worry. “You have been very inattentive recently. Are you unwell?”

Krivax didn’t really want to think about Archbishop Benedictus. He was another person who had become a villain in the original timeline, but as far as Krivax was concerned, he would handle the Archbishop in the same way he had ‘handled’ Kel’Thuzad, Kael’thas, and Malygos.

Keep an eye on him and only worry about him when he actually became a problem. Krivax already had enough on his plate as it was. Besides, considering all the changes in the timeline, there was no guarantee that the Archbishop would be corrupted by the void cults.

“I’m fine, Masruk. I’ve just found it hard to sleep lately,” said Krivax, attempting to reassure his friend. “Queen Kithix has forbidden me from using any enchantments or alchemical products on myself until she performs the ritual to regrow my missing leg. Once that is done, I’ll be able to get a full night’s sleep again and I’ll be as good as new.”

“It’s not good that you require such things to properly sleep, Krivax,” Masruk said disapprovingly. “During my training, I was taught that Warriors shouldn’t become reliant on items or external forces that we might not always possess. I believe that lesson applies here.”

I know that… but it’s not like there’s much that I can do about it.

“You’re right, Masruk. I’ll try my best to use them sparingly,” Krivax lied. He appreciated that his friend was worried, but he had more important things to worry about than unhealthy sleeping habits.

Krivax could tell that his words hadn’t convinced Masruk at all, but he was thankfully spared from having to talk about the matter further once Queen Regent Lianne Menethil stepped up to the podium and the cathedral fell utterly silent.

This was the first public appearance of Lordaeron’s new ruler since she had taken on the regency, and everyone wanted to hear what she would say. Her hair was silver with age and her face showed signs of deep weariness, but she also held an air of dignity that had been cultivated over several decades of being a queen.

Young Arthas, the future king of Lordaeron, was seated next to the podium with red eyes from tears.

Krivax didn’t know much about Lianne Menethil as she was a character who hadn’t been particularly expanded upon in the lore, but he could see the determination in her eyes. He couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be called upon to rule over a kingdom facing such catastrophic circumstances, but he hoped she would be able to rise to the challenge.

“Dear citizens of Lordaeron and honored guests from across the Eastern Kingdoms and beyond,” The Queen Regent began, her voice steady and regal. “We are here to mourn the loss of a great man, Archbishop Alonsus Faol, who gave his life to protect this city from a threat that would have been unimaginable to us a mere few weeks ago. His compassion, courage, and faith in the Holy Light will be forever remembered and honored by the people of Lordaeron.”

Similar words had already been spoken several times during the ceremony, but Krivax could still see many people being deeply moved every time. He could even feel the Light surge around Anub’rekhan faintly at times during the speeches.

“He was a man who dedicated a lifetime of service to the people of the Eastern Kingdoms, regardless of what nation or land they may have hailed from,” Lianne Menethil continued solemnly. “Whether that service took the form of providing aid to the refugees of Stormwind or forming the Knights of the Silver Hand so the faithful might have the means to fight back against the Horde, his influence can be felt throughout these lands. Although the Horde has now been defeated, there are many who would not have lived to see this day without the efforts of Archbishop Alonsus Faol.”

Krivax turned his attention to Prince Varian Wrynn and saw him nodding along with tears in his eyes. It was difficult to overstate how much the Church of the Holy Light had done for the people of Stormwind since their kingdom was destroyed.

“The end of the war should have been a joyous occasion, but I have personally experienced how difficult it is to feel joy when your life has been upended by forces beyond your control,” said Lianne Menethil, her voice wavering slightly as sorrow crept into her eyes. “I know many of you feel as I do, and I would like to offer a word of advice that was once offered to me by Archbishop Faol, ‘It is when times feel darkest that we must most seek the Light.’”

Krivax was slightly startled as the Light around Anub’rekhan flared more than it ever had during the ceremony. Ever since the mission to secure the Dragon Soul, the Spiderlord had been much more attuned to the Light, and Krivax couldn’t help but find it distracting.

“If you cannot find the Light then find your neighbors, because it is during times like these that the people of Lordaeron must stand united,” the Queen Regent said with determination in her voice. “I knew Archbishop Faol for my entire life, and I know he would believe in our ability to rise above these challenges. As your Queen Regent, I intend to do everything I can to honor his memory, protect my people from harm, and help those hurt by the Horde’s cruelty. I intend to live my life such that when I rejoin the Light, I can greet Archbishop Faol and truthfully say I did all that I could, and I know the people of Lordaeron will do the same. Thank you all.”

As the Queen Regent retreated from the podium, the audience immediately broke out into cheers. Krivax could see many people crying throughout the cathedral, from the poorest of peasants to the richest of nobles. The C’thrax’s attack on Capital City was one of the most devastating events in Lordaeron’s history, and there were few people who hadn’t suffered as a result.

“She’s a talented speaker,” Hadix observed as he scanned his gaze over the crowd. “I wonder if she will be as skilled a politician. Though, I suppose you’ll have the opportunity to learn first hand, apprentice.”

Krivax groaned at the reminder. The political discussions over everything that had happened had been pushed back until after the funeral, but they couldn’t really wait any longer.

There had simply been too many important things that had happened. The war with the Horde had been ended by the Aspects, a dragon had been outed as a member of Dalaran’s ruling body, and a monster of unknown origin had upended the Eastern Kingdom’s political landscape by attacking Capital City. The consequences of the events of the last few weeks would be immense.

There were some matters that couldn’t be decided upon without the inclusion of Ironforge and Gnomeregan, such as the final fate of the captured members of the Horde, but there were still many things to discuss.

The Red Dragonflight had sent a few dragons to break the siege on the two cities, but there were simply too many matters to attend to after a year of being besieged for them to prioritize diplomacy. Last Krivax had heard, they were still in the process of reasserting control over Khaz Modan and clearing out any remnants of the Horde that might still be in their territory.

The High King had made it clear that Krivax would be sent down south to establish relations between Azjol-Nerub and the two nations in the near future. That coincided well with Krivax’s plans, as the Titan facility of Uldaman was buried deep within the mountains of Khaz Modan…

The ceremony didn’t last for much longer after the Queen Regent concluded her speech. The citizens of Capital City continued to pour into the cathedral to pay their respects to Archbishop Faol, but Krivax made his way out of the building with the rest of the nerubian delegation.

It was a bit annoying to walk with only three legs, but he had learned how to do so well enough that his pace was only slightly slowed.

Most of the nerubians left to return to their enclave in Dalaran, but Krivax and Anub’rekhan split off and started heading toward the palace so they could attend the meeting. Hadix and Queen Kithix had both been offered invitations, but neither of them cared at all for diplomacy and simply refused to attend. Anub’rekhan was a fair bit more personable with non-nerubians, but Krivax wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he was only attending because Azjol-Nerub needed someone to watch over him.

Once they arrived, Krivax was surprised to find the palace’s halls already large enough to accommodate the Spiderlord, presumably thanks to Antonidas. One of this King’s Guard arrived to escort the two of them to a seldomly used meeting room, as the Imperial Chamber where such discussions were usually held wasn’t currently available.

Krivax could see that much of the building was still damaged as they walked through the palace’s halls, but the servants continued to go about their business as they did their best to keep everything running.

Krivax and Anub’rekhan reached their destination after a few minutes and the King’s Guard announced their arrival before opening the door to the meeting room. Once he was inside, Krivax immediately swept his gaze through the room to see who was attending as he made his way to the section set aside for Azjol-Nerub.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see that the rulers from each of the human kingdoms were present, including a peg-legged Daelin Proudmoore, along with Archbishop Benedictus. Krivax was sure they all had important matters to attend to in their own nations, but the funeral of Archbishop Faol was an event of such diplomatic importance that none of them could afford to miss it. The Church of the Holy Light was the predominant religion in every human nation aside from Kul’Tiras, so the reverence felt toward the Archbishop was one shared by most of humanity.

In addition to the human rulers was an elf man who Krivax assumed to be Grand Magister Belo’vir. Although King Anastarian was busy attending to his people in the aftermath of the war, Krivax had heard that the high elves would be sending over Belo’vir to represent the Convocation of Silvermoon. As the Grand Magister, he was the second most powerful individual in Silvermoon’s politics, which showed the seriousness with which the elves were now treating these matters.

Krivax didn’t know much about Quel’Thalas’ internal politics, but he had no doubt that the war had left a deep impact on the elves.

Also present was Kurdran Wildhammer, High Thane of the Wildhammer clan and Aerie Peak. While not as isolationist as the high elves the gryphon-riding dwarves were a rare sight outside of the Hinterlands, but their presence had done much to help the Alliance counter the Horde’s undead dragons.

Aside from the elves and dwarves, there was only one other party being represented in this meeting, although Krivax felt like they were probably the most consequential. Alexstrasza, Queen of the Dragons, was sitting quietly around the table placed in the center of the room with Krasus by her side.

Krivax couldn’t help but notice that Krasus and Grand Magus Antonidas were very deliberately not looking in one another’s direction.

“Vizier Krivax, Spiderlord Anub’rekhan, thank you for joining us so promptly,” said Queen Regent Liane Menethil, smiling politely as they entered the room. “With your arrival, everyone is here and we can begin the meeting. I know that everyone is busy given all that has happened, so I shall refrain from wasting all of our time by skipping the pleasantries.”

“That sounds wise to me, Your Majesty,” said King Perenolde of Alterac, nodding toward the Queen Regent. “But if I may ask, is it truly wise for your son to be in attendance for this meeting? He is quite young and these matters can become a tad dull for someone his age.”

“As there is a significant likelihood that Prince Arthas is destined to take the throne sooner than we had anticipated, I have decided that he will be present to observe my diplomatic meetings,” Liane Menethil said firmly as she laid a hand on her son’s shoulder before gesturing toward Prince Wrynn who was seated next to the delegation from Stormwind. “Besides, my son is hardly the only young person observing this meeting.”

The boy looked clearly overwhelmed by everything that was going on, but Krivax didn’t blame him given the circumstances.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said King Perenolde, smiling genially as he leaned back in his seat.

“Before we begin this meeting, I’d prefer if we could all agree on the topics of conversation for this evening,” said Queen Regent Menethil, her voice becoming regal as she addressed the room. “Subjects for discussion are a proposal to formalize a more permanent and expanded Alliance through a new treaty between its member nations, addressing the ongoing food crisis plaguing our nations, and determining the future course of action regarding the retreating Horde.”

“Are we not going to decide what we should do with those already captured?” asked King Trollbane, earning a rare grunt of agreement from King Greymane.

“Such a decision cannot be made without representatives from Ironforge and Gnomeregan,” Queen Regent Menethil explained. “I recommend that we organize a more formal political summit between the nations of the Eastern Kingdoms in the future to decide on the fate of the Horde, and what actions we should take in regard to the Dark Portal.”

“I’m sure my fellow dwarves would appreciate that,” said Thane Wildhammer, nodding approvingly.

That… was not going to be an easy conversation, and Krivax was very much not looking forward to it. His personal feelings toward the orcs were more than a little complicated.

As a fan of the Warcraft franchise, he’d had an okay impression of the orcs and the Horde in general. Most of the events in lore took place after they were freed from the blood curse plaguing their people and generally depicted them in a favorable light. Krivax had always known that they did and would do bad things during their history, but he had always just seen them as people.

After seeing the aftermath of the Second War with his own eyes, it was much more difficult for Krivax to look at the Horde in a neutral light. He sympathized with them as he understood that their actions were significantly influenced by the Fel magic coursing through their bodies, but did a lack of agency excuse their atrocities?

Did it bring back the men, women, and children who had been mercilessly slaughtered or soothe the anguish of those who had lost everything to the Horde?

It was a complicated ethical dilemma to which Krivax wasn’t sure a correct answer existed. No matter what choice was made in regard to the Horde, there would be those who would be left unsatisfied.

He didn’t believe they should all be just killed, but Krivax couldn’t find it in himself to particularly blame those who would no doubt call for such actions. Especially since he knew the chances of the orcs being systematically exterminated were practically nonexistent due to Alexstrasza’s continued intervention. The people of the Eastern Kingdoms didn’t know the orcs as anything other than murderous savages incapable of even the slightest kindness, so it was understandable.

On a more pragmatic level, Krivax thought that the orcs could be used as a powerful military force against the various threats that Azeroth would face, if their race could be… rehabilitated.

But that was a matter that Krivax intended to address later. Any attempt to turn the Horde away from Fel magic and properly integrate them into Azeroth would be a project that spanned years, so Krivax still had time to make plans.

“What is there to decide? Just kill the savages and be done with it,” Daelin Proudmoore said with a scowl.

“I understand that the Horde has committed many unspeakable acts of evil against your people, Admiral, but to return one atrocity with another will do nothing but set us all on a path of madness,” said Alexstrasza, her expression one of empathy as she turned toward the Lord Admiral.

“You don’t understand shit, ‘Dragon Queen,’” said Daelin Proudmoore, spitting out Alexstrasza’s title. “While you were off doing who knows what, my people were fighting and dying to stop those animals from slaughtering innocent people. Just because you decided one day to fly down from wherever you came from and grace us with your presence by ending this war with barely any effort, doesn’t mean you get to lecture me on morality. I don’t care about any so-called ‘Fel magic’ that was corrupting them, we would be better off with them gone.”

After the C’thrax’s attack on Capital City, the Dragonflights had already provided an explanation about Deathwing, the Burning Legion, and the orc Fel corruption to the various nations. Krivax wasn’t certain how everyone was reacting behind the scenes but was glad that everyone now knew about the greatest threats to Azeroth.

The nobility in Lordaeron and Alterac, at least, had publicly disavowed House Prestor and everyone was keeping an eye out for Deathwing’s children.

“That is enough! I would remind you that these matters will be discussed once Ironforge and Gnomeregan are able to join us,” Queen Regent Menethil said firmly, ending the argument that had obviously been brewing. “They have suffered from the Horde as much as anyone else, and thus deserve to have a say in the matter.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. It is the mortal races who have suffered the most from the Horde, which is why you should all have a say in their fate,” said Alexstrasza, subtly reminding everyone that it was her Dragonflight who still held the Horde’s leadership captive.

“If I may interrupt, are we not going to address the dragon in the room?” asked King Perenolde, glancing toward Krasus. “The fact that a member of Dalaran’s ruling body was secretly a member of the so-called ‘Red Dragonflight’ seems like an important matter to discuss. ”

“The Council of Six considers that matter to be an internal one,” said Grand Magus Antonidas, his expression not giving away any thoughts on the matter.

“Be that as it may, I would quite like to know if any of my advisors are secretly dragons,” said King Perenolde, glancing toward Alexstrasza.

“To the best of my knowledge, they are not,” Alexstrasza assured. “There are some among my Flight who choose to live amongst mortals, but Korialstrasz’s circumstances were an exception.”

Krivax didn’t know how true that was, but there was nothing any of them could do to prove or disprove the Dragon Queen’s words.

“Hmm. Very well,” said King Perenolde, his eyes thoughtful.

“If there is nothing else, then I suggest we begin addressing the previously mentioned topics,” said Queen Regent Menethil. After pausing for a moment to make sure there would be no more interruptions, she nodded and continued. “Let us first begin by discussing the fate of the Alliance, and what should be done with the organization now that the war has come to an end.”

“Your majesty, Azjol-Nerub has a proposal that it would like to put forth on this matter,” Krivax said immediately, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Once he received a nod of acknowledgment from the Queen Regent, Krivax took a deep breath as he prepared himself.

Shortly after the mission to secure the Dragon Soul, High King Anub’arak had contacted everyone involved and personally expressed Azjol-Nerub’s gratitude for their service through a scrying crystal. When he spoke to Krivax, the High King had specifically informed him of his intention to create a dedicated department for diplomacy and that Krivax would be assigned there as a high-ranking member.

Azjol-Nerub was highly meritocratic and wasn’t shy about rewarding those who performed exceptional deeds in service of the kingdom. Apparently, participating in a mission that helped save the Azjol-Nerub from an insane dragon powerful enough to collapse their underground kingdom around them was a big deal. At least, Krivax had gotten the impression that it was significant enough to wash away any residual distrust that came from being exposed as a member of the Order of Kal’tut.

It was sort of annoying that he would be transferred to a new department again so quickly, but the High King had made it clear that he would still be working closely with the Anomalous Magic Research Division.

The best part of it all, however, was that Krivax’s position as a diplomat was now much more formal and he could send regular proposals to the High King. Now that his political power was much more secure, there were many options that had opened up for him that were previously impossible, his plan to change the Alliance for the better being one of them.

“With the war won and the Horde’s threat drastically diminished, Azjol-Nerub believes it best if the Alliance was repurposed into an organization that would benefit us all in the long term,” Krivax said once he finished gathering his thoughts. “To be more specific, we propose to create a regular council in which we can exchange information on any threats, determine solutions to crises faced by multiple nations, and negotiate future defense treaties if such a thing ever becomes needed.”

Krivax knew that if left to its own devices, the Alliance in its current form would inevitably break apart without an external threat to justify its existence. In the original timeline, the Alliance had continued on for a few more years due to the worry that those who had escaped through the Dark Portal into Draenor would launch a second invasion.

After the intervention of Alexstrasza and the Red Dragonflight, such a worry simply didn’t exist. A large majority of the Horde had already been successfully captured, with only a few scattered remnants fleeing into the countryside. In addition, any attempt from the orcs on Draenor to invade Azeroth would be swiftly ended by dragon fire.

If Krivax didn’t do something about it, he was confident the Alliance would swiftly fall apart once they began arguing over what to do with the orcs, as it did in the original timeline. Therefore, his solution was to change it into an organization with much looser commitments that everyone could agree with.

It had taken some effort to convince the High King that joining such an organization would be in Azjol-Nerub’s interest, but he was ultimately swayed by the fact that the commitments were minor and the benefits obvious.

Once it became time to deal with the Lich King or any other threats to Azeroth, Krivax was certain that the Alliance could be easily and quickly repurposed into a military alliance to deal with the threat.

“I doubt Quel’Thalas would benefit much from such an agreement,” said Grand Magister Belo’vir. “Despite the unexpected danger poised by the Horde, our defenses were more than capable of halting their advance. Committing ourselves to intervene in the squabbles of foreign nations seems like it would be against our interest.”

“Mutual defense agreements would only be negotiated once a new threat became clear,” Krivax said calmly. “Quel’Thalas would face no obligation to involve itself in foreign conflicts if it chose not to do so.”

“The High King would have not proposed such an arrangement otherwise,” Anub’rekhan added.

“I have the opposite concern,” said Anduin Lothar, speaking in his role as the regent ruler of Stormwind. “The Alliance should be strengthened, not weakened. It has only been a month since the Horde was routed and we’re already prepared to discard the organization that allowed us to come together and defeat them? What madness is this?”

“The nerubians are merely being proactive, Supreme Commander,” said King Perenolde, sounding pleased. “I understand you don’t have much experience with politics, but it's perfectly clear to those of us who do that the Alliance must change if it is to continue in the long term and beyond a mere military alliance.”

Krivax was pleased to see both King Greymane and Admiral Proudmoore nod in agreement and turned to address the concerns of Stormwind.

“Prince Varian, if such an organization had existed when the Horde first arrived on Azeroth, your kingdom would have never been forced to face them alone,” said Krivax, looking toward the future king of Stormwind whose expression fell at the reminder of his kingdom's destruction. “Similarly, Lordaeron and the Church would have benefited if the danger of Deathwing and the Void was communicated more clearly in advance to such a council. I firmly believe that Azjol-Nerub would have intervened in this war far sooner if we had been informed of such an existential threat. Grand Magister Belo’vir must surely agree that the news of Zul’jin’s escape and alliance with Horde would have enabled Quel’Thalas to better prepare for their invasion of your lands.”

After he had presented his case, Krivax could tell that many of the rulers seemed receptive to his arguments, and those who previously weren’t at least looked thoughtful. The discussion got heated at times as they argued over the details, but the various rulers at least seemed favorable to the changes and agreed to negotiate the matter further through their diplomats. Alexstrasza in particular seemed interested in having a method to easily keep informed on matters happening throughout the Eastern Kingdoms, and share information with the mortal races if necessary.

Krivax was happy with the progress, even if nothing definitive had been agreed upon. Such a significant matter couldn’t be decided in a single day, after all. Afterward, the discussion quickly moved on to the ongoing food crisis, which was already dire even without taking the Horde into account.

Predictably, many of the rulers were more than a little reluctant to spend their citizen taxes on feeding the orcs while their own people were going hungry.

Alexstrasza and Archbishop Benedictus offered to use their resources to cleanse the Void corruption left behind by the C’thrax during its rampage toward Capital City. In addition, the Dragon Queen would send her Flight to promote the upcoming harvests of the various kingdoms, although she made it clear this wasn’t a permanent solution.

There were a lot of people to feed, and the dragons weren’t going to suddenly dedicate themselves to being farmers.

“I believe that the Harvest Witches and Thornspeakers contacted by Dalaran to control the jormungar can also help improve the harvest,” Krivax suggested.

There weren’t all that many of them, but every little bit helped.

Archmage Antonidus nodded with agreement and said, “There are also several specialists in Dalaran in nature magic and conjuring food who can help research a more long-term solution.”

“Some of my folk practice shamanism, so we can help make the soil better for growing crops,” Thane Wildhammer spoke up.

“Quel’Thalas has long been self-sufficient by feeding its people with food created through arcane magic,” Grand Magister Belo’vir said pridefully. “We can perhaps open our food to foreign trade in light of these trying times.”

It was fairly easy to get everyone to agree on promoting any method that might improve food security across the continent. Nobody wanted to experience the chaos that would occur if a famine swept through the Eastern Kingdoms while they were still reeling from the effects of the Second War.

The final topic of discussion was how everyone intended to deal with the Horde forces that had not yet been captured. Alexstrasza categorically refused to deploy her Dragonflight against the trolls, explaining that they were natives of Azeroth and not corrupted by the Burning Legion as the orcs were. She was willing to help with any particularly large groups of Horde remnants, but it was the Alliance who would actually need to find them.

The kingdoms quickly agreed to organize scouting parties that would be dedicated to searching for any groups of orcs, which reminded Krivax of another matter he wanted to mention.

“Before this meeting is concluded, there’s one thing that Azjol-Nerub would like to announce,” said Krivax once the discussion was about to end. “Our kingdom has decided to create two settlements in the Eastern Kingdoms, and has negotiated agreements with Alterac and Stormwind to do so.”

Ignoring the shocked exclamations of some of the gathered rulers, Krivax retrieved a map marking the proposed settlements from his spatial bag and placed it on the table. After several moments of examination, King Trollbane was the first to react.

“You intend to construct a settlement on the border between Stromgarde and Alterac?” King Trollbane asked pointedly.

“The settlement in Alterac will be smaller than the one in Stormwind, and will primarily be used for the purpose of facilitating trade and mining,” Krivax explained. “This agreement will be very beneficial to the economies of both Stromgarde and Alterac.”

It was he who argued to the High King and the council that Azjol-Nerub should focus on the settlement in Stormwind so that they could avoid political entanglements as much as possible. It hadn’t taken much convincing, as the High King seemed to be of a similar mind.

He could have perhaps been able to argue for scrapping the Alterac settlement altogether but there was some benefit to keeping it despite the potential entanglements it would cause. If Azjol-Nerub had a settlement in Alterac, then it would be much easier for Krivax to make contact with the only orc clan on Azeroth who hadn’t entered into a pact with the Burning Legion if he needed to.

After all, he knew that the Frostwolf clan had abandoned the Horde early on and settled in the mountains of Alterac without anyone noticing.

Krivax could tell that a few of the rulers were dissatisfied by the news, Trollbane most of all, but there wasn’t anything they could really do about it. Azjol-Nerub had already concluded negotiations with Stormwind and Alterac, plus they had earned a significant amount of political capital through their contributions to the war effort.

As everyone said their farewells and agreed to continue the relevant discussions through their diplomats, Krivax couldn’t help but feel a little bit good about how things were going. Until now, he’d been unable to implement many of his ideas due to his lack of official diplomatic status.

Now that Krivax had more solid authority and a direct line of communication with the High King, there were suddenly many more options available to him…

Chapter Text

Travard and the other remaining members of Tyr’s Guard, their ancient and now much-reduced order, watched as the deepest vault in Bastion of the Silver Hand in Stratholme was closed and tightly locked. Five fiendishly clever gnomish locks kept a dwarven forged vault door secured; the keys to these locks were given over to five of the most honorable and trusted people that Travard could think of to hold them.

From within the vault Lord Tyr’s body rested once more, hopefully forevermore.

“Thank you again for doing this, and taking us in,” Travad and his fellows bowed slightly to the five men before him.

“It is an honor, and the least we can do for your order’s long vigil to protect our world,” Sir Uther said, his fellow founding members nodding along as they stood with them. “And coming to Capital City’s aid while we could not.”

“And fighting alongside our teacher in his final moments,” Sir Turalyon thanked them, sadness still tinging his voice even after so long after the Archbishop’s funeral.

“I simply wish we had been able to do more,” Travard admitted in shame. “We failed in our duties and it cost so many lives.”

“You did all you could in the face of such great evil and suffered greatly for it,” Sir Gavinrad assured him. “You went above and beyond the call of duty rushing to Capital City’s aid after the beast, this Zakajz, was broken free from his prison by Deathwing and most of your order was slain. It is thanks to your efforts that the Archbishop was able to lay it low.”

“He died like a true hero, and the Light holds him now,” Sir Saidan continued. “And now part of your ancient mission is done too, or at least you don’t have to shoulder it alone. I’m sure that soon they’ll find a way to get rid of that eyesore of a corpse and we’ll heal the damage it has done in time. The Light gives us strength after all.”

Travad grimaced at the reminder of the not-quite-dead remains of the Corruptor in Capital City.

The region around the C’thrax had been quarantined through the combined efforts of the Church, Kirin Tor, and the dragons to prevent the spread of its dark influence. Thoradin’s sword was plunged once again through the creature to keep it from rising again and the former king’s spirit, who dwelt in the sword, kept vigil over the remains of the foul creature.

That was to speak nothing of the ‘Void Scar,’ as it was being called. The Corruptor traveled a wide, straight path from its place of confinement beneath Tyr’s Fall, more commonly known as Tirisfal Lake, to Capital City. As it journeyed, its flowing blood tainted the landscape, causing mutations and changes. In addition, it unleashed a horde of repugnant, lesser abominations.

Like with the Corruptor’s corpse, efforts were being taken to quarantine the Scar and cleanse it with the aid of the so-called ‘Dragon Queen’, but the Void was insidious and the damage done was great. It was estimated that it would take more than a year to ensure most of the corruption was removed from the land, and significantly longer for everything to be completely restored to how it once was.

To say nothing of the near pitch-black churning lake itself and the unfortunate settlements that were in the monster’s path.

Travad had seen the result of the creature’s passing too many times while rushing towards Capital City, whole hamlets and villages reduced to nothing. Or worse, only partly destroyed from the Corrupter’s path itself and the survivors ravaged by its ‘offspring’ or corrupted by its blood.

He gave what peace he could to those he could while on the move, and never with a light hand.

“Worry not, for our newest allies will heal the harm that has been done, and we will be there to help them,” Sir Tirion, likely guessing his thoughts, assured him. “And now our Order will hold and defend Tyr’s body as yours did for so long. Oddly fitting, given our order’s name,” he finished with a chuckle.

Travad couldn’t help but agree given the symbolism.

The sad fact was that after Deathwing’s attack on Tyr’s tomb, his order, never large in the first place given its secretive nature and known only to a few family lines, were now made up of less than a dozen members. In addition, when they took Tyr’s Hand with them to Capital City the tomb had collapsed, a part of its ancient failsafe system to deny its secrets to Tyr’s enemies.

Now the tomb was gone, Tyr’s body had been securely moved to the Silver Hand’s headquarters, and their prisoner was now in quarantine in Capital City.

Thankfully the Knights of the Silver Hand’s kindness knew no bounds and had happily welcomed them within their ranks if they so chose. They were happy to take up the offer.

“We are not as skilled warriors as you all are, but our order has long used the fighting styles of our distant ancestors and power provided by Tyr’s hammer to aid in our mission. I hope in time we can all become proper paladins such as you,” Travad stated with confidence.

“Not unless I beat you there first, brother,” his brother Galford ribbed him while punching him in the shoulder, raising chuckles all around from those present.

“And we are honored to have you among us,” Sir Uther said with a smile. “And worry not, we will record and honor your order’s history and traditions as well. I’m sure you wish to keep up your duty in protecting Tyr’s body after all.”

“Ideally, yes. But recent events show we cannot be idle either, and we hope you can count on us when we drive the Horde back from the southern part of the continent,” Travad said with conviction.

“But of course! More blades are never a bad thing!” Sir Saidan laughed.

“We hope we prove worthy of being new members of your family,” Sir Turalyon said sincerely.

It would take some getting used to the loss of secrecy. Tyr’s Hand had been made up from the blood of only a select few family lines over the millennia since their original giant ancestors and new members rarely joined through merit or marriage with all children raised to carry out the duty. Travad was sure it would be a good change in the long run.

“But come, we must be on our way,” Sir Gavinrad said as they all began their ascent into the Bastion proper, past hidden and well-defended doors. “The scribes are eager to learn more about the truth of Tyr’s past, our ancient giant ancestors, and more to add to our growing library about our noble progenitors.”

“After one last thing, of course,” Sir Tirion said as they returned to the main floor of the Bastion and its central room.

Travad nodded as he went up to a recently installed plinth and gently inserted Tyr’s Hand, the weapon he had not let out of his grasp since he had removed it from the tomb except for one time to let Archbishop Faol use it to channel the Light’s power that day.

He stepped back and watched as the hammer’s radiant glow spread and seeped out throughout the entire Bastion, finding a new place to protect with its holy power. All could feel the Light flow through and energize them, its comforting warmth filling their beings.

“May Tyr’s Light shelter us all in its new home, and pray that the need to take up his hammer does not come again,” Sir Uther spoke up.

Travad dearly prayed they never would have to.

—----------------------

They both waited outside of the royal bedchamber, fidgeting in worry and barely contained anxiety that they fought to keep under control. The King’s Guard standing by the doors said nothing, standing in silent vigil, but in the privacy of their own thoughts, they could not help but pity them.

After all, no children should have to see their father cling to life.

They jumped as the bedchamber doors opened and Queen Regent Lianne Menethil walked through it, her children rushing up to her and looking at her with one simple unasked question.

“Your father is well enough to see you both right now,” she said with a small smile, her statement causing some joy to return to her children’s faces. “But be calm and try not to tire him out too much. He needs his rest.”

“Yes, mother,” Crown Prince Arthas and Princess Calia said simultaneously as they rushed past her and into the bedchamber itself. They quickly passed through the large room to their father’s bedside.

King Terenas Menethil II rested upon a large comfortable bed and was reclining in as comfortable a position as was possible. A high-ranking priest of the Holy Light was sitting by the king’s bedside at all times to see to his health with a tray of potions and artifacts of the Light.

Sadly, despite all the care given to him, he was a shell of the man he once was. Gaunt, pale, and sickly looking, his horrid-looking injuries, covered by bandages and robes, caused him constant pain he could not escape. Most times it was a struggle for him to stay awake, but he sometimes had enough energy and clarity of thought to speak to his wife about the state of the kingdom, the Alliance, and most importantly about their children.

Once she became aware of the situation, Alexstrasza had personally come to Capital City to attempt to heal King Menethil’s injuries, but the Void had already done much damage to his body. As it was, it was a miracle he was alive at all and not corrupted by the Void, but even the stray shot on the palace from the C'Thrax had left its mark and crippled him.

The Dragon Queen claimed she would have been able to easily heal most instances of Void corruption, but the C’thrax who had attacked their city was known as Zakajz the Corruptor for a reason. It was well known for possessing an unprecedentedly virulent form of Void magic that constantly shifted and changed, which made any injuries from the creature extremely difficult to cleanse.

The Void was especially insidious and attempts to prevent it from further spreading throughout the King’s body had left him weak and often tired. During his best times, he smiled warmly and greeted his children lovingly despite his injuries and general lethargic state.

A true King stayed strong for those they loved after all.

“My children, I hope you are well,” he said weakly, reaching out to them. Brother and sister gently hugged their father so as to not cause him any additional pain. “Keeping up with your lessons, I hope. I can’t be looking over your shoulder all the time anymore.”

“Of course, father,” Arthas said with a strained smile. “I’m studying hard, training in the yard every day, and I ride with Invincible through the city to look over reconstruction efforts.”

“I’m using the bow now, too!” Calia said with pride, before speaking again with some fear. “I have to help protect everyone if a monster comes again.”

“I’m sure it won’t happen again, darling. But in case it does, I know you two will be there to protect our people,” Terenas said with a strained but genuine smile. “Just keep working hard and help your mother as much as you possibly can, but also find time to have fun for yourselves too. All work and no play will turn you both into dull elves,” he mockingly warned.

His children laughed at his words, cherishing these rare moments when life almost felt normal for them again as they talked with their father about everything, from important matters to the most trivial of things just to have something to do with him since he could not move far from his bed anymore.

But even like this they could enjoy their father’s company for a time… until, that is, his energy left him and he started to violently cough.

The royal siblings could only stand still in worry as the priest’s hands glowed and he ran them over their father’s form to provide some form of comfort. The coughing slowly stopped, but it was clear that their father was no longer in the state to receive them.

With great amounts of regret on both sides, the siblings said goodbye to their father and promised to return when he was better. They then slowly exited the bedchamber, passing their mother nearby who kept a respectful distance while her children spent time with their father.

She could see the tears in their eyes even as the door closed behind them.

Lianne could only sigh as she turned back to her husband and sat by his side.

“They miss you terribly and pray constantly for you to recover,” she told him.

“Heh, I’m afraid that if a being as powerful as Alexstrasza cannot fix me then there isn’t much that can,” Terenas laughed sardonically, which turned into a wheezing cough. “Ah, worse than death but better than what could have been. I’m so sorry to put all the responsibility on you and Arthas now. He shouldn’t have had to bear the duties of a king so early.”

“Life rarely makes things convenient for us all,” Lianne pointed out. “Still, despite everything I am glad you still live and I promise to look after Lordaeron in your stead until you recover or Arthas is able to take the throne. He is working harder than ever these days. He and Varian practically live in the courtyard now sparring. Arthas wants to make you proud and he’ll be a great ruler one day.”

“Since he has you as a mother I’m sure he will be a better king than I ever was,” Teranas chuckled lightly.

“One can only hope our children take most after me,” she agreed with a smirk.

“Hehe, the Queen knows best… Now, what news about everything else?” he asked seriously.

“Are you sure? Maybe after you rest for a bit-”

“I’m not dead yet, and if my wife has to shoulder the whole kingdom for me the least I can do is stay informed and offer what counsel I can when able,” he interrupted her while taking her hand. “Please let this worthless bag of bones be of use to you for as long as I’m able.”

“Of course, my love,” she returned as she started updating him about the state of the world and decisions going forward.

For no matter how much pain he suffered, the world moved forward and it was still the job of a monarch and a father to leave behind a better life for his subjects and his children, something he was determined to do even from a sick bed.

—----------------------

With the end of what scholars were already calling ‘The Second Great War’ or just ‘the Second War’ for short, preparations to reestablish control over the southern half of the continent was beginning to take place. Part of the Alliance military had been sent off to help repair the damage done by the Horde during its destructive invasion through the various lands and kingdoms.

Although the Horde had failed in its objective to break the Alliance and most of its leadership and forces were defeated or captured, they had devastated the villages, roads, and the farmlands along their path and much work had to be done to restore them.

Many noble sons and daughters, who joined the Alliance’s military, also received special leave of absence to return home and help in rebuilding efforts on their family lands which had been heavily affected by the Horde’s passing.

Othmar Garithos, knight and heir to House Garithos, found himself returning to Eastweald and his hometown of Blackwood built along a lake of the same name.

Sadly, it was far from a joyful return… but it wasn’t the worst that it could have been.

Othmar had asked his father’s permission to leave home and join the Alliance of Lordaeron’s war effort against the Horde to uphold the honor of his house. He left with dreams of stopping this evil force, protecting the innocent, and defending places like his home.

All of which he did… but at a terrible cost. While he was away, the Horde had come for Blackwood.

By all accounts, it wasn’t even their main target. Rather a random band of orcs, ogres, trolls, and whatever other foul monster saw an easy mark while the rest of the Horde invaded Quel’Thalas and the Alliance focused its efforts on fighting them and aiding the high elves.

His father, the brave and noble man that he was, had rallied the few remaining defenders to protect their people… and had fallen in doing so. Blackwood as a whole would have met the same fate, its defenders nearly overwhelmed, were it not for timely reinforcements from an unlikely source.

Before the war, Othmar would have admitted that he didn’t care much for spiders at all, especially the giant variety. But when he returned home to see nerubians, those strange spidermen from Northrend, aiding in Blackwood’s defense and restoration he was quite gobsmacked. More so when his mother explained the situation to him.

He mourned his father and those who died defending his home, but thanked the Light profusely for preserving the rest of his family and the people under his family’s protection. Most of all, he profusely thanked the nerubians who came to their aid, even when they tried to write it off as part of their mission to perform reconnaissance of enemy raiding forces.

And now he helped direct the rebuilding of Blackwood alongside his newest allies and getting to know the spiderfolk better, finding them pleasant company.

“I recommend that the human known as Kristoff be appointed as your clerk and handle other administrative duties,” the female Weaver, the one in charge of this group and aiding in Blackwood’s reconstruction, known as Kamet'kavad suggested. “His skills in such things would have likely made him a Vizier if he were nerubian.”

“I will speak with the man first, but trust your assessment,” Othmar noted as he looked over the most recent reports on his desk. “Blackwood’s reconstruction is going well. Soon it will be as it once was, perhaps even better. I’m sure my father would have been pleased,” he said with a grunt of pride.

“It is natural for each generation to seek to improve upon the last,” Kamet, as he had taken to calling her for ease of use, agreed. “Soon this settlement will be productive again and can add its resources to the growing need of the Alliance as a whole.”

“Feh, using our food to feed murderous prisoners? Such a waste,” Othmar growled.

“It does seem like an ill-use of feedstock, but it has been made clear that exterminating the Horde is not an option the red dragons will agree with,” Kamet seemed to shrug carelessly. “Thus the best course of action is to concentrate and contain them so that they are properly controlled. Mayhaps in time they can be put to productive use to make up for the resource drain.”

“Least they can do after burning our homes,” Othmar agreed. What were a few decades of indentured servitude to those who caused such damage after all?

“At least the magical ability of the red dragons and high elves will stem the worst of the predicted famine and merely turn it into a lean year or two,” Kamet added.

“How magnanimous of them to come in and save the day after all the fighting is over,” Othmar growled.

First, the high elves insulted the Alliance as a whole by sending a pathetically minor force to aid the army and then they relied on the Alliance troops to save them when the Horde finally reached their front door. The dragons had defeated the Horde in a single day, but why did they wait until so many Alliance lives had been lost, countless homes destroyed, innocent people slain, and his home nearly overrun? He had trembled with anger at the news that the Capital City had been assaulted by a giant monster and nearly destroyed. Garithos had wept at the death of the Archbishop who had helped so many over his long life.

Why did the rest of them have to sacrifice so much for the sake of others who barely seemed to care?!

At least the nerubians, strange as they may be at times, were upfront and honest about things.

They had not joined the Alliance’s war with the Horde right away. They were still new after all and still trying to understand their suddenly expanded world, but they did provide access to their war beasts and specialists. Once they did join the war, they moved as fast as they could to get soldiers and powerful Spiderlords to the Eastern Kingdoms to assist despite the difficulties in moving their troops all the way from Northrend. Compared to the uppity high elves, who only cared to send their main army after the war affected them personally, and the dragons, who made demands for ending the war, the nerubians had acted in good faith with the Alliance. Now that the fighting here in the north was over, he had no doubt that the high elves were attempting to wiggle out of any future responsibility.

Self-important cowards!

“There is still much work to be done, and defenses should be strengthened to account for future threats such as Horde remnants, forest trolls, gnolls, bandits, and other potential issues that could plague a post-war environment,” Kamet listed. “You should also attempt to expand farming and other industries here in Blackwood and surrounding lands under your control to improve overall production.”

“We’ll get to it then,” Othmar confirmed. “While our soldiers go to reclaim the south we must be here to support them.”

“Indeed,” Kamet said simply. “We hope to continue our mutually beneficial relationship with each other, Baron Garithos.”

“And I, the same,” Othmar said honestly.

If the war had taught him anything, it was that in the face of crisis, you learned who were your true allies, who were the enemies that had to be destroyed, and who were the snakes in the grass ready to use you until you had nothing left to provide and then tossed you aside.

It had been humanity who helped save the high elves during the Trolls Wars and most recently, it was the dwarves and gnomes who helped occupy the Horde in the south, and the nerubians who fought with the Eastern Kingdoms without taking the easy option of staying back at home.

Othmar Garithos intended to take this lesson to heart.

—----------------------

While most of the Horde and its leadership were defeated and captured thanks to the efforts of the Alliance and its allies, that did not mean that the fighting was done.

There were still large numbers of the Horde’s soldiers squatting in the ruins of the kingdom of Stormwind, and naturally, the Dark Portal itself that connected their homeworld to Azeroth in the first place.

Already the Alliance was preparing a combined military force made up of the Seven Kingdoms, Aerie Peak, Quel’Thalas, the Church of the Holy Light and their paladins, Azjol-Nerub, and even a few of the Dragonflights to help reclaim it all and push the Horde back to the portal.

But there was much to be done at home still, such as dealing with other threats within their borders. Namely in the form of bands of Horde remnants who escaped capture into the countryside of various kingdoms that needed to be hunted down and dealt with one way or another. The last thing the Alliance wanted was threats at their backs while their forces were away, something Capital City had dealt with to terrible effect.

These remnants though would not be easy to find, their small size making it easy for them to disappear into the little-known places of the world. Which is why specialized task forces and groups were made to track them down, utilizing the skills and abilities of all the members of the Alliance while also encouraging interkingdom cooperation.

One of said groups would become legends in time, but for now were some of the most effective hunters of the Horde’s remnants throughout the Eastern Kingdoms.

Rhonin of Dalaran, Vereesa Windrunner of Quel’Thalas, and Falstad Wildhammer of Aerie Peak.

Three unlikely people made allies, fast friends, and for at least two of them… something more.

---

Rhonin still felt like a man who had to prove himself and make up for his mistakes. The Kirin Tor and the Council of Six, or Four as it currently was with Archmage Krasus’ leave of absence due to conflicting loyalties and Archmage Runeweaver still recovering from his injuries, had released him from his probation due to his brave actions in aiding in the defense of Capital City during the C'Thrax attack.

As an up-and-coming member of the Kirin Tor, Rhonin was as headstrong, reckless, and eager to prove himself as he was skilled in magic. Which is why early on in the war, his foolishness directly led to the death of several comrades. His actions were only forgiven due to the fact they helped prevent a group of orcs from using dark magic to summon a demon and cause more deaths.

Then came the C’thrax attack. Archmage Krasus or Korialstrasz, as he now preferred to be called, had commanded all available mages from Dalaran to defend the Capital City. He had yet to fully process that one of his teachers was secretly a dragon of all things for centuries. The fighting had been tough and he had found his magical spells barely sufficient in defeating the voidling creatures spawned by the monster.

Still, the whole series of recent events made it clear to him that he had much to learn, and not just about magic.

Thus when the Kirin Tor asked for volunteers among its members to assist in efforts to track down remnants of the Horde he had jumped at the chance, as a personal penance and further learning experience.

Which is why in recent weeks he had been traveling all over the Eastern Kingdoms alongside two companions, Vereesa Windrunner, and Falstad Wildhammer.

Their task was to track down various bands of orcs, trolls, and ogres who had escaped capture and either inform the closest army units or handle it themselves if they could. Despite his newly acquired respect for caution and clear thinking, he and his companions were usually able to deal with the Horde remnants themselves due to their not-insignificant combined skill.

Such as now…

“Warlock!” he yelled out in warning as he unleashed a bolt of fire at the dark magic user, which was sadly blocked with a Fel shield. Rhonin parried another orc’s ax with his staff before blasting him in the face with an arcane missile.

“If someone could do something about that, that would be great!”

“Did you suddenly run out of spells, human?!” Vereesa said as she fired off an arrow at a charging orc, downing it in a single shot.

“No, but it's rather hard to cast anything complex while fighting for our lives!” Rhonin pointed out as he let out a cone of frost to give them some space. “Though fighting alongside a woman as deadly as she is beautiful certainly helps encourage me to try better!”

“Will a wounding shot encourage you more?” Vereesa sneered as she dodged another strike and flashed out in retaliation with a dagger.

“Depends on the wound!” Rhonin admitted.

Thankfully, before they could be completely surrounded or the warlock could unleash any potent spells, lightning came down from the sky all around them as their third and arguably fourth companion finally arrived.

“Sorry to keep you both waiting, but it seemed like you had it handled!” Falstad Wildhammer laughed atop his mount and partner Swiftwing. The gryphon shrieked in agreement as it slashed through the orcs with his talons, while Falstad’s stormhammer unleashed small stormbolts into them as well.

Taking advantage of the momentary chaos, Rhonin finally had time to cast a proper spell and unleashed his own lightning bolt at the warlock, breaking through its shield and slaying it instantly.

After that, all that was left was the clean up.

---

Vereesa Windrunner did not expect her first official assignment as a ranger of Quel’Thalas to be as an escort to a human wizard and a gryphon-riding dwarf. She’d much rather be with her sister, Alleria, as the Alliance prepared to push into the southern part of the continent and drive back the Horde still located there.

But hunting down the foul monsters that were most likely a part of the force that attacked Quel’Thalas was a close second.

As for the why, beyond the fact they did so at all, well…

“The Horde killed my mother, my younger brother, and many extended family members when they burned through Eversong,” she stated in a deadpan voice as she sat around the fire with her ‘companions’, the arrogant human and the savage dwarf.

Silence greeted her declaration.

“Well… I’m sorry for your loss,” Rhonin, in one of the few times since she had met him, said with no wit or sarcasm. “And that I asked, honestly. Last thing I wanted was to bring up such fresh wounds. I was just curious why you were so willing to work with us and not other rangers, is all.”

“Although you vex me, I cannot deny your skill and both of your willingness to go into the deep wild places to hunt down our prey,” Vereesa admitted. “So you at least deserved the truth as to my motivations.”

“No need to explain yourself to us, lass. We get wanting to avenge kith and kin wrongly taken from us,” Falstad said as he brushed Swiftwing’s fur and feathers. “Just don’t be overly eager to join them, is all. I rather think they’d want to see you again after living a long and happy life.”

“Indeed,” Rhonin said. “Your family wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself seeking revenge on their behalf, but at least you are among friends and comrades who will support and back you up when you need it. We will help make sure their spirits and the spirits of countless others can rest well as we bring those responsible to justice. Just don’t be too willing to throw yourself into danger is all. Speaking from personal experience, that is a fast way to getting yourself or others killed.”

“I… will keep both your advice in mind,” Veressa said quietly as she cared for her bow and arrows.

‘Maybe he isn’t as vexing as I thought,’ she thought in the privacy of her own mind.

---

“On the right!”

“I see them!”

“I got both your backs!”

With each successful hunt, they grew more and more skilled as a team.

Rhonin as their magical fire support, Vereesa their tracker and sniper, and Falstad as their lightning-fast hammer and scout.

Orcs, ogres, trolls, gnolls, bandits, feral beasts; none could stand against them.

Of course, from Falstad’s perspective it was more than just their fighting ability and friendship that grew over time, however.

“Watch yourself, human! I just had to save your life again,” Veressa mock complained.

“I am honored that you think of me so dearly that you are keeping track of each time, Lady Windrunner,” Rhonin fired back with a smirk.

“Only because who else would care about your petty life?” Veressa countered, which was only betrayed by a slight blush on her face.

“Like two alphas courting each other, these two,” Falstad muttered so softly to himself that only his companion Swiftwing could hear him over the din of battle, the gryphon screeching in agreement as they both dispatched an ogre magi with talon and hammer.

Still, despite the ridiculousness of their courtship, Falstad was near certain the two would officially hit it off by year’s end, while Swiftwing was betting that it would be less than that.

And the bird was very good at gambling in his experience.

Chapter Text

Krivax listened quietly as High King Anub’arak gave a speech thanking every nerubian who participated in the Dragon Soul mission for their service to Azjol-Nerub. Krivax was truly glad that his second visit to the High King’s ziggurat was significantly less tense than his first.

There was not a large audience for the speech and ceremony. The only ones present were the High King, his council, and the actual participants of the mission, but Krivax could tell from the expressions of those involved that the small audience did nothing to diminish the weight of this moment. There were few things that could make a nerubian emotional, but serving their people and being commemorated for doing so by the High King was one of them.

Krivax turned his attention to Masruk and the Dread Stalkers. Most of them were being rewarded by receiving higher positions within Azjol-Nerub’s military, and would be assigned to more important tasks to serve the kingdom’s interests. Azjol-Nerub would be restructuring its military and society in the coming years, and a large part of that would be making sure that it could secure its interests on the surface world. Krivax had a feeling that these particular Dread Stalkers would be spending a lot more time on the surface.

Krivax had expected Masruk to be offered the opportunity to become a Spiderlord thanks to his role in destroying the Dragon Soul, but the procedures for ascension to Spiderlord were apparently more complicated. Unlike Viziers, who could take on a wide variety of roles within the Circle of Viziers, the vast majority of Spiderlords were given important leadership and military positions within nerubian society. Masruk would need to undergo rigorous physical training and education before he could become a Spiderlord.

The High King had decided to allow Masruk to become a Dread Stalker and receive personal training from some of the kingdom’s most experienced warriors. Masruk was ecstatic for the opportunity to become a more powerful warrior, and Krivax was happy for him even if a part of him was disappointed. He hadn’t really thought much about it, but Krivax was aware about how much longer his lifespan was compared to that of a nerubian below the highest castes.

Krivax highly doubted that old age would be the thing that killed either him or Masruk given how dangerous the future was, but it was still something that he kept in mind.

As for everyone else in the group, Anub’rekhan would be given his own division of warriors to teach how to wield the Light, while both Hadix and Krivax would also be receiving their own promotions. At least, that’s what the High King had told him when Krivax last spoke to him about the ongoing affairs in the Eastern Kingdoms.

In a society like Azjol-Nerub, the reward for serving your people well was the privilege of being able to serve them better.

The High King’s speech was a relatively straightforward affair. He touched upon matters of duty, sacrifice, and the greater good of the kingdom. He presented them all with ceremonial sashes woven from Azjol-Nerub’s most valuable silks to commemorate their excellent service. After that was done, High King Anub’arak went on to announce everyone’s promotions. Krivax mostly checked out until the High King was about to announce the creation of their new group of Light-wielding warriors.

“Azjol-Nerub has asked much of Anub’rekhan over these past few centuries, and he has never faltered,” said Anub’arak, turning to address his fellow Spiderlord. “No matter what we have asked of him, he has done everything in his power to see it done. When I sent him to the surface world with our delegation, it was with the expectation that he would protect them and seek to acquire new advantages for Azjol-Nerub. He has succeeded greatly beyond our projections. It has been made abundantly clear to us how useful the Light can be to our kingdom, and we fully intend to make use of it.”

The High King paused as the Light around Anub’rekhan momentarily flared up, but smoothly continued after seeing that it was nothing to be concerned about.

“On this day, I announce the creation of a new military subdivision dedicated to training and deploying warriors trained in wielding the Light,” said High King Anub’arak. “This subdivision will be known as the Guardians of Nerub, and Anub’rekhan shall be its leader. I have no doubt that he will serve this kingdom well in his new role, and turn the Light into a powerful force to serve the interests of Azjol-Nerub.”

Krivax glanced over to Anub’rekhan as the High King revealed the name of Azjol-Nerub’s new Order of paladins.

Anub’rekhan bowed to the High King before speaking. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I have grown to deeply believe in the Light as a path forward for our people, and look forward to proving it to be true.”

High King Anub’arak nodded toward his subordinate before turning next to Vizier Hadix.

“Despite our… previous disagreements, there are few in Azjol-Nerub who know more about the Void or who have done more to protect our people against its threat than Vizier Hadix,” said High King Anub’arak, with only the slightest amount of reluctance in his voice. “He has done so for most of his life, and he risked his life to do so again when he successfully retrieved the Dragon Soul from the two-headed ogre who held it. Such service merits recognition, and as a fitting reward, he will be granted the authority to spearhead the Anomalous Magic Research Divsion’s efforts on the surface world.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Vizier Hadix before bowing to the High King. “I will do everything in my power to ensure I do not fall short of your expectations.”

“See that you do not,” said the High King, his many eyes firm as he looked down at Vizier Hadix. “This role has been given to you as an acknowledgment of your competence and resolute efforts to combat the Void, but I have not forgotten your role as a member of an organization that directly undermined my authority. If I see any sign that you are acting against the interests of Azjol-Nerub, then you will not enjoy the consequences. Am I understood?”

“You are understood, Your Majesty,” said Vizier Hadix, his voice calm and steady.

“Good,” said the High King before turning to Krivax. “In that case, we will move on to the final individual to be rewarded for their service today. Vizier Krivax, in the few short years that you have been alive, you have already done much in the service of Azjol-Nerub. From forming a beneficial relationship with the tuskarr to discovering multiple new continents that were previously unknown to us, and performing admirably in your role as a diplomat where other nerubians many times your age would have likely done much worse. For this, and in recognition of your role in destroying the Dragon Soul, I intend to place you in a leading role for Azjol-Nerub’s new organization of diplomats, the Foreign Outreach Division.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Krivax, genuinely pleased and nervous with this development. It would make his life much easier now that he had genuine and significant political power. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I trust that you won't,” said High King Anub’arak. “Despite your young age, you have done much for this kingdom and that has not gone unnoticed.”

The rest of the ceremony passed by quickly as the High King gave a closing speech about new responsibilities and faithfully serving Azjol-Nerub. Once it was done, everyone began to make their way out of the ziggurat and Krivax made to do so as well until he was suddenly stopped by the High King.

“Stay behind, Vizier Krivax. There are a few matters about the ongoing affairs of the surface world that I would like to speak with you about.

Krivax stopped short, turning to look towards Hadix and Masruk. Hadix looked at him and nodded before filing out of the room alongside the others. Masruk gave him a look of support before following along.

“Yes, Your Majesty? How can I help you?” asked Krivax as he approached the High King. The only ones left in the room aside from the two of them were a few Dread Stalkers standing stoically to the side, so he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you about Azjol-Nerub’s future priorities on the surface world,” High King Anub’arak explained. “As our kingdom’s leading diplomat, we will be relying on you to keep us abreast of any developments. I would also like to hear about your conversation with the Dragon Queen, and how she answered the questions we agreed to pose to her.”

One of the best things about the dragons becoming involved in mortal affairs was that Krivax now had an easy way to make Azjol-Nerub aware of important information. A single conversation with Alexstrasza was enough for Krivax to have an explanation for how he knew about several important matters.

“I had assumed that we would be discussing these matters with the rest of the council, Your Majesty,” said Krivax, confused as to why the High King had chosen to speak to him alone. “Isn’t this something that they all need to be made aware of as well?”

“It is,” the High King quickly confirmed. “However, I have learned over the years that I am best served by receiving important information in a manner that is as unbiased as possible. My advisors are all wise in matters related to their domains, but they also all have their own interests and agendas and are much more skilled at lying than you, Vizier Krivax.”

Well excuse me for not having centuries of political experience, Krivax thought to himself indignantly.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Krivax said politely. “What would you like to know first, specifically?”

“You were instructed to ask the Dragon Queen about any other Old God prisons that they might be aware of,” High King Anub’arak said immediately, a hint of anticipation in his voice. “After receiving reports of the C’thrax’s attack on Capital City, I am convinced more than ever that the Void is our kingdom’s primary threat. What did she say?”

“According to Alexstrasza, another one of the Old God’s prisons can be found in southern Kalimdor,” Krivax said before hesitating. He wasn’t certain what would come of sharing the next detail, but there was no way around it. “The entity’s prison rests beneath the city of Ahn’Qiraj, which was created by the Qiraji. It seems like they also survived the Sundering.”

Krivax watched as High King Anub’arak suddenly stopped all movement as he absorbed the information. After a few moments, the High King let out a hum of consideration and replied. “I see… that is a vexing complication. I have no doubt given the location of their city that the Qiraji still worship the Old Gods, and that they would view our people as traitors. Why have the dragons not exterminated them?”

“Alexstrasza claimed that the dragonflights helped the night elves fight them back a few centuries ago when they attempted to leave their city,” said Krivax, neatly ignoring the casual call for the genocide of a similar Aqir descendant species. “Ahn’Qiraj has been sealed away from the rest of the world, but I don’t know exactly why the Aspects haven’t killed them. I assume that the costs and risks of doing so just outweigh the benefits.”

Krivax then went on to explain what Alexstrasza had been willing to share about the night elves and their powerful empire. Although his metaknowledge wasn’t exactly clear on the matter, Krivax would rate the night elves as being significantly stronger than Quel’Thalas, and more of a threat. The fact that the night elves were under the protection of a literal demigod in the form of Cenarius only made the situation more delicate.

There was a significant risk that contact between the night elves and Azjol-Nerub could turn into a disaster if things were not handled properly, especially given their ‘recent’ war with the Qiraji.

Once Krivax was finished, the High King took a moment to ponder his words before finally asking about Azjol-Nerub’s other sister kingdom. “Did she mention anything about Manti’vess?”

“She didn’t,” Krivax quickly replied. “The Dragonflights haven’t seen anything to suggest that the Mantid survived the Sundering.”

It was interesting to learn that not even the Aspects knew anything about Pandaria and what was happening within. Chances were that Nozdormu was aware of the magically hidden continent, but Krivax hadn’t seen any sign that he had shared that information with his siblings.

This implied that the magic hiding Pandaria from the rest of the world was extremely powerful and wouldn’t be breached any time soon. In the original timeline, the hidden continent was only revealed after Deathwing attempted to destroy the world in the Cataclysm, which Krivax had no intention of allowing to happen.

As far as he was concerned, that was nothing but good news. Krivax still had the headaches of Kalimdor to look forward to, and he really didn’t want to deal with any more new continents until things were more settled.

“Good. That is one less threat to Azjol-Nerub that we need to be concerned with,” said the High King, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Did the Dragon Queen agree to give us a map of Kalimdor, as we requested?”

“She did, Your Majesty. Although she made a request of us in return,” Krivax said hesitantly, unsure of how the High King would respond to the request. “Alexstrasza would like us to take on a lenient position in regard to the Horde during the upcoming political summit.”

The High King spent a moment to consider the matter before asking a question. “Would such a position harm our diplomatic position with the other surface races?”

“Well… Kul’Tiras, Gilneas, and Stormgarde would react the worst,” Krivax said quickly, surprised that the High King was so open to the idea. “But there is little that any of them can actually do about it. Besides, I think it would be more advantageous for Azjol-Nerub to foster a good relationship with the Dragonflights. They’re stronger and much closer than any of the human kingdoms.”

“I agree. I care nothing about what happens to the Horde, so the Dragon Queen’s price is relatively insignificant,” said High King Anub’arak.

In retrospect, Krivax shouldn’t have been particularly surprised. Nerubians tended to approach the world in a more logical way than most people, and the Horde never actually did any significant damage to Azjol-Nerub. That being the case, there was really no reason for them to really care about the orcs or their fate.

“As you say, Your Majesty. I will convey our agreement to Alexstrasza the next time that I see her.”

“Do so. It will be useful for Azjol-Nerub to have a good relationship with the Dragonflights. If these ‘night elves’ are as powerful as she claims, then perhaps one of the dragons could act as an intermediary,” the High King said thoughtfully.

“I think that would be wise, Your Majesty. The green dragons in particular took on the form of night elves and are thus likely to have a close connection to them,” said Krivax, using some of his metaknowledge to point the High King in the right direction.

“I will keep that in mind, Vizier Krivax. If there is nothing else, then you are dismissed. You have much work to do in preparing Azjol-Nerub to establish diplomatic contact with Ironforge and Gnomeregan,” said High King Anub’arak, dismissing him.

It had been made clear to Krivax during their last meeting that Azjol-Nerub placed a high value on Ironforge and Gnomeregan. Both nations would be closer to their primary settlement in the Eastern Kingdoms than any of the human nations aside from Stormwind. Aside from that, the Circle of Viziers was extremely interested in dwarven and gnomish technology

“Actually, Your Majesty, there is one matter I would like to bring to your attention,” said Krivax, causing the High King to look at him with curiosity. After retrieving the map to Uldaman from his spatial bag, Krivax handed it over to one of the nearby Dread Stalkers, who quickly examined it for malicious magic before presenting it to the High King. “A project that I started with my authorized discretionary budget has managed to achieve something worthy of your attention. I hired goblins, those not aligned to the Horde, to search for any facilities resembling Ulduar in the Eastern Kingdoms, using information given to me by the Explorers’ League about locations worthy of investigation.”

That got the High King’s undivided attention, and he quickly controlled a skitterer to unroll the map and place it on a nearby desk.

“This potential facility is in Khaz Modan?” the High King asked idly as he continued to focus on the map. “If that is the case, then your upcoming trip to Ironforge has become more important than ever, Vizier Krivax. I expect you to make exploring this facility your first priority.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I intend to make contact with the Explorers’ League headquarters as soon as I arrive in the city,” said Krivax, pleased that everything was beginning to come together.

Once the Keeper inside Uldaman was discovered by the Explorers’ League, then it would be trivial to make sure the Dragonflights also learned of him. Since they should know that Archaedas had the ability to open a path to Deepholm, the Aspects would be able to use him to finally finish off Deathwing.

As Krivax continued to discuss the matter with the High King, he found his mind drifting to how much better off Azeroth would be if his plan worked. A Keeper who hadn’t been either incapacitated or corrupted by the Void would solve… so many problems that Krivax had no way of dealing with by himself.

After what happened to Capital City, Krivax wasn’t sure how he would handle it if his actions managed to cause another unexpected tragedy to occur, so he hoped desperately that his plans would work out…

—----------------------------------

Zul’jin stumbled up the steps of the temple belonging to Jan'alai, the Dragonhawk Loa, doing his best to ignore the pain in his severed stump of an arm.

It had been a little more than a week since he had escaped the tender treatment of the cursed elves, and there was still no sign of his limb beginning to regenerate. Zul’jin was filled with nothing but hatred as he thought of the damned elves, but he had to admit that they knew how to make a troll hurt. They’d chained him up to a stone pillar, taken out his eye, and carved into him with enchanted blades that caused more pain than they should’ve. The only way he’d been able to escape the chains was by cutting off his own arm with a discarded spear.

Zul’jin assumed the cursed elf magic was why it wasn’t coming back. He knew he’d be able to learn how to fight well enough with the one arm, but he wouldn’t mind having back the other one so he could kill the elves more easily.

The witch doctor had to use a whole lot of Mojo to keep him from dropping dead once the raiding party managed to drag him back to Zul’Aman. It didn’t help that every witch doctor was working themselves to the bone trying to heal all of their wounded.

It wasn’t much longer after he’d healed enough to get around on his own that the priests told him Jan’alai wanted to commune with him. Zul’jin respected the Loa as much as any other troll who knew what was good for them, but he wasn’t happy about being called by one of them.

The best way to deal with Loa, in Zul’jin’s humble opinion, was to give them their sacrifices when they asked for them and do your best to not draw their attention. Halazzi had eaten half a dozen of his priests over the past few years for angering him, and Zul’jin didn’t want to end up the same way.

He’d never had any business with Jan’alai, but he’d heard she was one of the more reasonable Loa. The Dragonhawk usually only ate the elves they sacrificed to her, and she didn’t mind paying them back when she was in a good mood.

“The Loa be waitin’ for you, Zul’jin,” said the priestess as he got to the top of the temple.

I hope so. Didn’t walk up here for my health.

Zul’jin just nodded to the priest as he walked by. It wasn’t wise to run your mouth at a Loa’s priest when you were standing in their temple. That’s a good way for a troll to end up screaming in their belly.

The inside of the temple was filled with shiny gold trinkets, statues carved in the shape of dragonhawks, and all the other things that Loa liked to see. Although he couldn’t see them, Zul’jin could feel eyes watching him from every direction as soon as he passed through the entrance. He knew that those eyes most likely belonged to the spirits of the trolls who swore to serve Jan’alai in both life and death.

Zul’jin didn’t pay much attention to all of that though when the massive spectral form of the Loa was right in front of him. Dragonhawks were weird-looking things, with the head of a hawk, the body of a serpent, and two large feathered wings coming out the side of their bodies. Jan’alai herself was covered in green and red feathers and was at least three times bigger than any natural dragonhawk Zul’jin had ever seen.

“Zul’jin, you’ve arrived,” said Jan’alai, her beaked mouth staying still as her voice echoed through the temple.

“As you commanded,” said Zul’jin after bowing respectfully to the Loa. “Your priests didn’t say what you be needing me for, Mighty Jan’alai.”

“They didn’t say, because I didn’t tell them,” said Jan’alai as she carefully studied him. Zul’jin was careful not to react as she circled around him, her serpentine body blocking any path he might have used to escape. “I’ve heard much about you from my worshippers, little troll. The people speak of the hero who managed to escape from the elves and even cut off his own arm to do so. I decided that I wanted to get a good look at you for myself.”

“And what is it that you see, Great Jan’alai,” Zul’jin said politely, even as he felt his muscles grow stiff with tension.

“Nothing that I haven’t seen before. A troll filled with hatred and resentment,” said Jan’alai, her gaze knowing as she looked down on him. “You’re far more cunning than most, and I can see a deep determination within you to right the things in the world you think are wrong. You could have perhaps made for a good priest at one time, but you are good for nothing more than being a Warlord as you are now.”

“Sorry that I not be up to your standards then, Mighty Jan’alai,” said Zul’jin, forcing himself to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Oh, you misunderstand me, little troll. A Warlord is exactly what I am looking for,” said Jan’alai, her tone one of satisfaction before turning into something more conversational. “Tell me, Zul’jin. What do you know about the Forbidden Temple of Ula’Tek?”

“It be a temple near the coast that the Loa forbid anyone but their priests from approaching,” said Zul’jin, confused by the Loa’s question. “Every troll in Zul’Aman knows not to go there.”

“Yes, but you do not know why,” said Jan’alai, her voice growing solemn. “Within the temple is the corpse of a creature we killed long ago before the world was shattered apart by the foolish elves. It was a C’thrax, one that led the armies of Azj’Aqir in a war against the ancient troll empires of old for nearly a century. After the creature was slain, Azj’Aqir broke apart into three separate kingdoms and the trolls became the uncontested mortal rulers of this world. Until the elves overthrew you, at least.”

These weren’t stories that Zul’jin had ever heard from any of the priests, so he assumed they weren’t ones the Loa had a habit of sharing. They were interesting in their own way, but hearing about his people’s glorious past only made their present failures more clear.

“Why are you telling me this, Mighty Jan’alai?”

“Because, Zul’jin. A C’thrax was brought back to life several weeks ago and went on to attack a human city to the west,” said Jan’alai, her eyes growing distant as she gazed at something Zul’jin couldn’t see. “Not only that, but the descendants of the Aqir are expanding their kingdom to this continent. My peers might be content to stand by and ignore the happenings of the world, but I find these developments… extremely concerning. Had our C’thrax been the one to be brought back, I doubt I or any of Zul’Aman’s Loa would have been able to stop it in our current state.”

Zul’Jin was more than a little surprised at the Loa’s words. He didn’t know of anything powerful enough to take down one of the Loa, much less all of them working together.

“What do you want me to be doing about it? I doubt I can help you fight off anything you can’t handle on your own, Great Jan’alai,” Zul’jin said cautiously.

Jan’alai drew closer to him, and Zul’jin was certain that he had her full and undivided attention. “I have a plan to address this matter. However, it is not without risk and I require a mortal servant to enact my will on this world. Tell me. If I were to offer you my power, Zul’jin. What would you be willing to offer in return?”

“Everything,” Zul’jin immediately replied. If the Loa could give him enough power to protect his people and enact his vengeance against the elves, then there was nothing he wasn’t willing to give.

“Excellent, little troll. I’m glad to see such conviction,” said Jan’alai, pleased with his response. “If you are truly willing to become my servant, Zul’jin, then prove yourself. Perform the Loa’balu and link yourself to me. If you do this, then I will reward you with enough power to accomplish what needs to be done.”

Hesitating for only a moment, Zul’jin grabbed the ax hanging from his waist and pointed the edge of it at his abdomen and lower back. Trolls were hardy folk and could regenerate a lot, but it was widely known that this part of the body was the safest to perform a Loa’balu. Zul’jin only winced a little as the edge of the ax cut into him and carved off a piece of meat to sacrifice to the Loa.

Jan’alai said nothing and merely watched in anticipation until the Loa’balu was complete. Zul’jin made certain to catch the sacrifice before it could fall to the ground and then presented it to the Loa. As soon as the piece of meat disappeared into the Loa’s enormous beak, Zul’jin could feel a strange connection form between him and Jan’alai.

As Zul’jin attempted to adapt to the unexpected shift, he was suddenly engulfed by a powerful surge of energy coursing through the link and into his body. It felt rather similar to the time an elvish mage tried to burn him alive.

Once it was finally over, Zul’jin came back to awareness to find himself on his hands and knees as he struggled to catch his breath. It took far longer than he would have liked for Zul’jin to notice that he once again see with both eyes and had both of his arms, although the one he had just regained was… changed.

Zul’jin carefully studied his new arm and ran his fingers along the scales that covered it. His left arm reminded him of something he would see on a hawk and ended with wickedly sharp talons that Zul’jin was eager to put to use.

“The priest left a mirror around if you would like to study the rest of your changes,” said Jan’alai, her voice audibly more tired than it was before. “When I funneled my power into you, I decided to fix some of your deficiencies.”

Zul’jin looked to where the Loa was pointing and saw the mirror she had mentioned. After bowing the Jan’alai with more respect than he had ever bowed to anyone before, Zul’jin quickly made his way over to see what had changed.

The first thing that he noticed was that the eye he had lost to the elves had also changed. Much like the Loa’s own eyes, the pupil was a faintly glowing yellow, but it was there and worked better than ever. Zul’jin was certain he would now be able to see the elves coming far before they saw him, which would make it much easier to kill them.

He was glad to see that most of his body remained unchanged, aside from seeming noticeably younger than the last time he looked. Zul’jin was not an old troll, but he’d begun to feel the effects of time beginning to dull his reactions and slow him down. After the Loa’s empowerment, Zul’jin felt stronger than he ever had before.

Feeling a source of power dwelling deep within him, Zul’jin marveled as he suddenly let loose a stream of fire from his mouth that rivaled that of any dragonhawk. Slowly, Zul’jin got his new abilities back under control and turned to the Loa who had given to him.

“I would have done more, but you mortals haven’t been offering enough worship or sacrifices in recent times,” said Jan’alai, her tone one of irritation. “If you can change that, Zul’jin, then we will both benefit greatly.”

“Oh, you don’t need to be worrying about that anymore, Mighty Jan’alai,” said Zul’jin, overjoyed as he basked in the power he had been given. “I’ll be bringing you all the power you need. I’m going to enjoy capturing those elves and sacrificing them on your altar. Once my reign is secure, Zul’Aman will venerate you above all Loa!”

“That will have to wait until my peers are unable to stop us, little troll,” Jan’alai said with amusement. Zul’jin wasn’t surprised by the Loa’s response. Although he wasn’t a priest, he knew that the Loa often worked to undermine one another. “However, attacking Quel’thalas is not quite what I had in mind.”

“What?! Why not?” Zul’jin shouted in outrage, furious that the Loa would deny him the chance to use these powers to tear apart the elves.

Almost instantly, Zul’jin once again found himself on his hands and knees as a massive sense of… pressure seemed to force him to the ground and engulf his entire being.

“I would suggest you remember who you’re talking to, Zul’jin,” said Jan’alai as she loomed over him. “Many times, trolls have tasted the slightest bit of power from a Loa and thought themselves stronger than they were. Don’t think that you’re important enough that you can shout at me.”

“Of course, Mighty Jan’alai,” Zul’jin grit out between clenched teeth. He hated being forced into such a humiliating position, but there was little he could do against the Loa. “I apologize. I simply forgot myself in my excitement.”

Jan’alai allowed the pressure to remain for a few more moments before suddenly retracting it. “Good. Don’t worry, little troll. I’ve lived long enough to have learned that mortals like you occasionally need to be reminded where they stand. It is something that I’ve grown used to.”

Zul’jin wasn’t sure how the Loa wanted him to respond to that, so he simply clenched his fist and moved on from the subject.

“Great One, why shouldn’t we wage war on those cursed elves? Wouldn’t this power allow me to capture more of them to sacrifice in your name?” Zul’jin asked once he had calmed down.

“Why do you think this war would be any more successful than your others, mortal?” Jan’alai asked pointedly, a note of contempt creeping into her voice. “Not only are the elves currently well prepared for war, but they would also receive the aid of the human kingdoms as well. After you chose to ally with the Horde, Zul’Aman would be lucky if it didn’t find itself fighting every other nation on this continent. Besides, if all it took for you trolls to defeat the elves was a small empowerment, your people wouldn’t have lost most of their land.”

The Loa’s words hurt like a knife to the belly, and Zul’jin felt bitterness boil up within him at the damned elves, the humans, and his people's inability to defeat them.

“I can feel your resentment, little troll. Zul’Aman has been trapped in a bitter cycle for many centuries,” Jan’alai said knowingly. “You trolls lose a war, which means you don’t have any elves to sacrifice, which then leads to us Loa not having enough power to aid you. Your worship lessens and Zul’Aman grows weaker. Then you lose the next war and the cycle repeats. This cannot go on, Zul’jin, or it won’t be long before any of us have a place left in this world.”

Zul’jin knew the Loa’s words to be true because he had seen it his entire life. Constantly, they fought the elves and humans, yet their territory continued to shrink no matter how hard they fought. If it wasn’t for the Loa then he knew without a doubt that his people would have already been exterminated by the elves.

“Then what do you want me to do, Mighty Jan’alai?” asked Zul’jin, hoping the Loa would truly have a plan to pull them off of this path.

“You will go south, mortal,” Jan’alai said firmly. “The Gurubashi have remained splintered ever since Zandalar prevented them from summoning Hakkar, and their Loa have grown weak as their worshippers grow lesser in number. There is much power there waiting to be claimed, and many trolls who are willing to fall under the service of a powerful Warlord. While the Alliance enjoys its peace and continues to further its cooperation with the descendants of the Aqir, we must use this time to grow strong, Zul’jin. Peace will not last forever.”

“This won’t be easy,” Zul’jin said after a moment. “The Gurubashi ain’t used to taking orders from outsiders, and their Loa aren’t going to like me in their territory.”

“If those Loa aren’t willing to cooperate, then we will just have to find a way to kill them and add their power to my own,” Jan’alai said carelessly, even as a shimmer of greed flashed through her eyes. “You might even prefer it that way, mortal. After all, you more than anyone else will benefit from my strength increasing.”

Zul’jin thought about it and imagined what he could do if he became even more powerful as the Loa said. Slowly, a smile grew on his face as Zul’jin pictured elves being torn apart by his new talons or being burned to ashes by his fiery breath.

“You be right, Mighty Jan’alai. I think I might prefer it that way…”

Chapter Text

It was fortunate that Krivax had already been acting as Azjol-Nerub’s unofficial head diplomat before being assigned to his new role. Otherwise, he would be feeling completely out of his depth.

At least I finally have all of my legs back…

Currently, Krivax was waiting in Dalaran’s main portal hub for the Kirin Tor to finish creating a portal that would connect to Ironforge. The Horde’s warlocks had apparently performed rituals to corrupt the leylines near the dwarven capital and prevent any mages from teleporting to the city. Through the combined efforts of the Kirin Tor, the Circle of Viziers, and a few members of the Blue Dragonflight, the leylines were now cleared and it was now possible to connect the dwarves with the rest of the Alliance.

The Kirin Tor would do the same for Gnomeregan soon, but Krivax was scheduled to visit Ironforge first. This would be his first time going out on a diplomatic mission without Hadix or Anub’rekhan watching over him.

Vizier Hadix was busy meeting with Alliance leaders and the Church of Holy Light to discuss a strategy to deal with the growing prevalence of Void cults throughout the Eastern Kingdoms after the C’thrax attack on Capital City. While the Order of Kal’tut had been wrong about a few things, they were correct to assume that once the Void became publicly known, there would be many crazy people drawn into it.

Anub’rekhan, on the other hand, was training his first batch of nerubian warriors in the ways of the Light at the Bastion of the Silver Hand in Stratholme alongside its paladins. Krivax was happy when he heard about it, and he hoped the ‘Guardians of Nerub’ would help Azjol-Nerub survive the Lich King when the time came.

Krivax had offered Masruk a spot in his guard detail, but his friend had expressed an interest in focusing on his training. Masruk had admitted that he felt like a power gap was growing between him and Krivax and he wanted to use this time to close it as much as possible. The Spiderlord responsible for teaching him was apparently one of Azjol-Nerub’s best trainers. Although he missed Masruk’s company, Krivax hoped his friend would get the results he was looking for.

That left Krivax on his own to handle the important task of establishing diplomatic contact with Ironforge. He had a few guards of course, but they weren’t exactly great conversation partners like Masruk. Not only that, but Krivax still had a deluge of other work that he needed to attend to. Even now, he was using all four of his hands to read through the Foreign Outreach Division’s daily paperwork.

Krivax was very glad for privacy enchantments or else he would be forced to sit in a sealed room all day handling confidential documents.

The first thing that he had done after being appointed as Azjol-Nerub’s leading diplomat was to choose ambassadors to send to each of the Eastern Kingdom’s nations. It hadn’t been easy to find Viziers who weren’t horribly xenophobic and socially blunt, but Krivax felt the ones he had picked were at least able to hide it… for the most part. Krivax had come to the conclusion that eventually he would have to train fresh and promising hatchlings into efficient ambassadors and diplomats in the future.

Due to their administrative training and lack of experience in dealing with other nations, they were constantly sending daily information updates from their respective nations for Krivax to look over. Currently, the ambassador to Quel’Thalas was giving Krivax the most headaches because Azjol-Nerub seemed to be displacing one of the high elves’ trading monopolies. They had previously controlled the market of most high-end textiles throughout the Eastern Kingdoms, with Dalaran being their far second. Azjol-Nerub was gradually increasing trade with foreign nations and the Eastern Kingdoms were already being flooded with cheap, quality silk products.

This included things like clothes, ropes, sailcloths, and construction tarpaulins. There was even a long list of silk goods that Krivax didn’t even know were produced in Azjol-Nerub. Even after living as a giant spider person for over six years, he was still surprised to learn just how many things could be made with silk.

Krivax was also keeping an eye out for the metal prices in the Eastern Continent in the various reports. He knew that the dwarves and gnomes typically produced the majority of the metal goods and machinery sold among the human kingdoms. He hoped to reach an agreement with the dwarves and gnomes that would allow Azjol-Nerub to focus on enchanted metal products in order to make use of the vast mining operations in Northrend.

The construction of Azjol-Nerub’s northern settlement on the continent was currently underway. Al’kilah would be built in the mountains close to Alterac’s border with Stromgarde, as originally agreed upon, near Chillwind Pass. Judging by the reports being sent by the ambassadors to Stromgarde, Krivax could already tell that the place would be a persistent political headache due to the contested borders.

Thankfully, the one that would be built near Stormwind should cause much fewer problems. Lordaeron had recently reiterated its commitment to helping Stormwind rebuild, but that would have to wait until after the political summit. The nations of the Eastern Kingdom couldn’t afford to delay too long in making a decision regarding the captured orcs.

Just as Krivax was about to read the reports sent from the ambassador to Gilneas, he was pulled from his thoughts by a voice that he hadn’t heard in a while. “Hey there, Krivax. Long time no see.”

Krivax looked down and saw the cheerful face of Trixie Tinkwrench, with Malzie Stonehallow standing by her side.

“Trixie, Malzie, I’m surprised to see the two of you here. I thought that you would both be traveling with the refugees on their way back to Khaz Modan,” Krivax said cheerfully. He was glad to see a few familiar faces joining him on his trip to Ironforge.

“We probably would be, but Malzie’s clan are a bunch of big shots so we’ve received permission to use the portal,” said Trixie, answering his unspoken question.

Since portals could only handle a limited amount of traffic, the only people who would be using them were aristocrats, foreign dignitaries, and other important individuals. Krivax vaguely remembered Malzie mentioning something about his family, but he couldn’t recall the exact details.

“Clan Stonehallow has a permanent seat in Ironforge’s Senate. I’ll introduce you when we get there,” Malzie elaborated.

“I would appreciate that. It would be helpful if I had someone to show me through the city,” said Krivax, grateful for the offer.

“Oh, you don’t need a politician for something like that, lad. I’d be glad to do it myself,” said Malzie. “It’s the least I could do given the circumstances.”

“Uh, what circumstances?” Krivax asked in confusion.

“We do remember that you were the one responsible for Azjol-Nerub establishing contact with the Eastern Kingdoms,” said Trixie. “Azjol-Nerub helped out a lot with fighting the Horde off until those dragons decided to stop the war. A lot more people would have died if not for you.”

“Aye, the lass is right. Who knows what could have happened?” said Malzie, nodding in agreement. “Don’t worry, Krivax. You’re a friend of the Stonehallow Clan now. We’ll make sure that you don’t have any problems in Ironforge.”

Krivax wasn’t quite sure what to say. This wasn’t his first time receiving recognition for his actions during the Second War, but it was the first time someone had praised him for saving lives. Given how much sleep he had lost over the C’thrax attack, it was a nice thing to be told.

“Thank you. Hearing that means more than you know,” said Krivax, his voice quiet and full of emotion. After taking a moment to compose himself, he turned to Trixie and quickly changed the subject. “Shouldn’t you be waiting for the portal to Gnomeregan? I imagine that you must be eager to see your family again after a long time apart.”

Trixie’s smile dimmed around the edges a bit before she responded. “My family managed to send me a letter after the siege was broken, they’re okay. Ironforge is connected to Gnomeregan by tunnels so I can go see them once this is all over. So don’t worry about it. I can wait a little while longer.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Deciding to read the rest of his reports later, Krivax spent the rest of his waiting time catching up with Trixie and Malzie. Listening to them talk about everything they had gone through since he had last seen them was very interesting, especially in the case of Trixie. Krivax had known that she and Anub’rekhan had fought together in several battles, but her stories about riding on his back and throwing makeshift bombs at the Horde were highly entertaining.

Eventually, Krivax sensed a surge of arcane magic and the familiar feeling of a portal opening nearby and informed his two companions about it, much to their excitement. Once the Kirin Tor finished testing the portal and making the appropriate preparations, one of the mages came to inform Krivax that it was safe for him to go through.

“Are the two of you ready?” asked Krivax, ignoring his guards as they took a defensive formation around him and his companions.

“Yes, lad. I’m ready to see home again,” Malzie said with clear longing in his voice.

“Me too,” Trixie said eagerly. “There were times that I was sure we’d never make it back. I can’t wait to see all of my friends back at the Explorers’ League headquarters in Ironforge.”

“Alright. Then there’s no reason for us to wait,” Krivax said before nodding to the leader of his guard detail.

Krivax watched as a few of his guards stepped through the portal first and followed after them once they verified it was safe.

The first thing that Krivax noticed once he took his first step into Ironforge was that he was undoubtedly underground. There was a stillness to the air that made him feel more at home than he had ever felt in Dalaran or Capital City.

The second thing that Krivax noticed was the many dwarven guards were looking up at him in astonishment and vague repulsion.

Oh, yeah. This is the first time they’re seeing nerubians…

Although there were still many humans who stared at nerubians with disgust, and there probably always would be, most of them simply looked away when they passed by. The reaction of the guards reminded Krivax of the first time he stepped foot on the Eastern Kingdoms, and he actually felt a faint nostalgia for when his life was ‘simpler’.

“Greetings, everyone. I am Vizier Krivax of Azjol-Nerub, and I am here to meet with King Magni Bronzebeard,” Krivax said as affably as possible. He knew the importance of first impressions.

The dwarves traded uncertain glances with one another until their apparent leader stepped forward. “Well met, Vizier. I apologize for all of the gawking. We were warned ahead of time, but seeing you spiderfolk in person is… something else.”

“Your apologies aren’t necessary. I’m more than used to it,” said Krivax, his mandibles clicking together in amusement.

“Thank you, Vizier. If there’s nothing else, then I’ll escort you and your people to the king and the senate,” said the guard captain. “I was told that they’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

The Krivax’s guards and the dwarves spent a few awkward moments positioning themselves around each other as they prepared to escort him through the city. They eventually settled on a formation that had Krivax’s guards on the inside and the dwarves farther out, providing a buffer between the nerubians and the locals.

Trixie and Malzie walked close to Krivax, chatting amiably and occasionally pointing out the sights as they walked out of the portal chamber and into the city proper. Aside from Quel’Thalas, Ironforge was the city that Krivax was most excited about seeing in the Eastern Kingdoms. The dwarven capital was a bustling metropolis carved into the heart of a massive mountain, and its architecture was far different from any of the human cities he had visited.

Stone buildings containing shops and homes were built into the walls, and the streets were filled with movement as the citizens of Ironforge went about their business. There were also bright lamps with beautiful designs placed evenly along each street. Krivax was immediately assaulted by the loud sounds of hammers striking anvils and an intense heat emanating from the center of the city. The ceiling stretched far higher than Krivax had expected, and he couldn’t help but be amazed as he wondered how the dwarves managed to build such a city.

Ironforge’s citizens looked far healthier than they should for people who had been under siege for over a year. Krivax assumed that the city must have an extensive network of underground tunnels and full storerooms that had allowed them to endure the siege with minimal suffering. Most of them were staring at him and his guards with expressions of either astonishment or aversion, as he had expected.

“We’re about to reach the Great Forge District,” Malzie said with excitement. “If you thought this was impressive, then you’re in for a treat, lad.”

Krivax was already familiar with what to expect, but seeing the Great Forge District in person was an entirely different experience. The district was a marvel of engineering and craftsmanship, centered around an enormous forge that was fueled by carefully directed streams of molten lava. The heat was even more intense here, and the sounds of hammering and industry were deafening. Krivax quickly cast a ward around himself and his guards to keep the worst of the heat and noise away.

They were soon standing outside of the so-called High Seat, which served as Ironforge’s throne room, located next to the Great Forge District. The guards stationed outside, equipped with master-crafted armor that radiated magic, studied the incoming group with vigilance. Krivax was impressed by the imposing entrance, the intricate stone carvings, and the sheer grandeur of it all.

As they approached, one of King Magni’s guards stepped forward and stopped them from entering. “Halt! Which of you is Vizier Krivax of Azjol-Nerub?”

“That would be me,” said Krivax, even as he thought to himself that his identity should be obvious from the position of the guards. “I have been sent here to meet with King Magni Bronzebeard on a diplomatic mission. I believe he is expecting me?”

The guard studied him for a moment before responding. “Aye, we were informed of your arrival. Your guards will wait outside of the High Seat while you, Malzie Stonehallow, and Trixie Tinkwrench will be permitted inside. I will escort you to the waiting room until King Magni grants you an audience. Is this acceptable?”

“It is,” Krivax said immediately before ordering his guards to wait outside.

No reasonable monarch would ever allow armed soldiers from a nation they barely knew anything about into their throne room. That was just common sense.

Unlike many human buildings, Krivax had no difficulty entering the High Seat as the dwarves strangely seemed to prefer ceilings and doorways far higher than would be necessary. The interior of the building was as grand as its entrance, with towering stone columns and statues of dwarven heroes lining the walls. Krivax was also able to sense wards weaved throughout the building, which explained how the royal court managed to function near such a noisy district. The dwarves walking through the High Seat’s halls were obviously very wealthy, as nearly every person that Krivax passed by was wearing well-made enchanted jewelry.

The guards led them through several corridors before they reached a small, yet lavish waiting room. “You will be informed when King Magni is ready to receive you,” one of the guards informed Krivax before leaving the room.

Once they settled into the room and began trying the snacks and refreshments left for them, Malzie turned to Krivax with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, lad. I’ve met the king a fair few times. He can be a tad stern, but I’ve always known him to be a fair ruler.”

“Thank you, Malzie. I’m hopeful that this will be the start of a long and beneficial relationship between Azjol-Nerub and Ironforge,” Krivax said genuinely

“If you want someone to comfort, then I’m the one you should be talking to,” said Trixie as she nervously munched on some kind of pastry. “I’ve never even seen the king before, let alone talked to him. Not all of us are aristocrats or diplomats who are used to this sort of thing.”

“Ha! Well, there’s a first time for everything,” said Malzie. “Chances are good that the king will call the both of us first, but you don’t need to worry. I’ll do most of the talking for the both of us.”

“What? Why would the king want to talk to us first?” Trixie asked in shock.

“He’ll want to hear what we have to say about the state of our kin in Lordaeron and also about our spidery friends, lass,” Malzie explained calmly. “King Magni will probably call for us first, and then Krivax once he’s done with us.”

Trixie was not happy to hear that and continued to distract herself with delicious snacks. It wasn’t long before Malzie was proven right when a guard entered the room and announced that King Magni was calling for the two of them. As they were escorted out, Krivax decided to indulge himself in the shellfish that Ironforge had thoughtfully prepared for him, but he was unexpectedly interrupted when a dwarf wearing a wide-brimmed safari hat walked into the room.

Unlike all of the other finely dressed dwarves that Krivax had seen in the High Seat, this one wore gear fit for climbing mountains and had a pistol strapped to his side. His hair was the color of bronze and he studied Krivax with an open curiosity that lacked any of the disgust that he was used to seeing.

“Ah, you’re a sizable one! My gut tells me that you must be that nerubian diplomat Krivax, yes?” said the strangely dressed dwarf. “I’m Brann Bronzebeard, brother of the king and leader of the Explorers’ League. A fine pleasure to meet you, friend!”

Krivax was suddenly struck dumb as he suddenly found himself face to face with the exact person who he most needed to meet. Brann Bronzebeard was a legendary explorer in Warcraft lore and was often at the center of any events relating to Azeroth’s Titan facilities.

Krivax wasn’t naive enough to believe that he could reasonably access Uldaman on his own. Not only would he risk running afoul of the facility’s defenses, but the Keeper within Uldaman would most likely associate any nerubian with the Old Gods and designate them as a threat immediately. Out of all the people in Azeroth who could realistically enter a Titan facility safely and then convince a reawakened Keeper to help the world, Brann Bronzebeard was the best option.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” said Krivax once he managed to pull himself together. “Trixie and Malzie have been telling me stories about you ever since Azjol-Nerub first came into contact with the Explorers’ League. I am Vizier Krivax, leader of Azjol-Nerub’s Foreign Outreach Division.”

“Aye, so they have? Well, I’ve heard my fair share ‘bout you nerubians too. If it weren’t for the blasted Horde, then I’d have set off on an expedition to Northrend as soon as we first made contact!” said Brann, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “When word reached my ears that you’d be waitin’ here all alone, I couldn’t help myself but come and have a gander.”

“And am I as interesting as you hoped?” Krivax asked curiously.

Brann’s response was filled with enthusiasm as he continued to study Krivax. “Oh, you certainly are unique! I’ve seen a fair share of folk in my travels, but most of them are at least shaped like a dwarf. How in Azeroth do you manage to control all of them limbs of yours? And what’s it like looking at the world with eight eyes?”

Krivax was amused by the dwarf’s blatant fascination and decided to indulge him. “Coordinating eight limbs is a lot like coordinating four, I would imagine. Trixie wondered the same thing, and we found out that nerubian eyes are better at seeing in the dark than most and have a wider field of vision. Although the surface races do seem to be better at tracking long-distance objects.”

Aside from their lifespans, most of the races in the Eastern Kingdoms weren’t all that different biologically, especially dwarves, gnomes, and humans. That wasn’t particularly surprising given that they shared a common ancestral origin in this world. Elves also looked mostly the same as humans, but they had many differences with the other races that manifested mostly in matters related to magic.

“Aye, that makes sense to me. Seein’ in the dark is really useful for folks who live underground, after all. Us dwarves can see in dark places a wee bit better than most, but we still need those lanterns we got hangin’ around everywhere.” Brann grumbled to himself before perking back up. “Will Azjol-Nerub let the Explorers’ League send a team to come to visit? I reckon I must’ve read through the description Trixie and Malzie gave of your cities a half dozen times already!”

“Actually, that’s one topic that I wanted to discuss with you and your brother,” Krivax said eagerly, glad that Brann was moving the conversation in this direction. “There really wasn’t an appropriate time to organize it during the war, but Azjol-Nerub and the Explorers’ League would benefit a lot from cooperating with one another. Given your position, I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about the recent revelations relating to human and elf history…”

“I surely have. Every scholar in Ironforge is itchin’ to learn know more about the vrykul and the elves are madder than a dwarf who’s just found his anvil being used as a gnome’s dinner plate!” Brann chuckled at his own joke.

They certainly were. If there was anything that could piss off the high elves, it was being told that their ancestors were originally trolls.

“Azjol-Nerub can confirm those things to be true for two reasons. First is that our kingdom is incredibly old and we have maintained detailed records throughout our history,” Krivax explained. That was especially the case once the kingdom repossessed the documents kept by the Order of Kal’tut. The races of the Eastern Kingdoms weren’t the only ones going through a period of historical rediscovery. “And the second is due to the Titan facility built in the northernmost part of Northrend, as well as the various structures left behind by their constructs.”

Predictably, that was enough to completely capture Brann’s attention.

“Is this related to those reports you folks gave the League about them ‘Iron Dwarfs’ and ‘Frostborn’ up on Northrend? What do you folk know about the Titans?” asked Brann, all pretense gone as he stared up at Krivax with a hunger for knowledge. “I’ve searchin’ high and low for anythin’ I could find about them and the history of my people for most of my life! It's why my brothers and I founded the League in the first place!”

“We don’t know much about the Titans themselves, other than that they were godlike beings who built unimaginably advanced facilities throughout Azeroth,” Krivax said honestly. After the Order’s dissolution and the sharing of their records, the Titans had a popular topic of research recently. “As for your people’s history, we know a good amount, even if much of it is speculation. Still, we do have a sizable amount of circumstantial evidence.”

During his discussion with the High King, they had already thoroughly gone over what information Azjol-Nerub knew about that the dwarves and gnomes would be interested in. This was good for Krivax, as it helped him sort out which details among his metaknowledge were already known or could be reasonably inferred.

“For example, Azjol-Nerub has detailed records of Titan-originating constructs shaped almost identically to vrykuls, dwarves, and gnomes,” Krivax revealed, much to Brann’s astonishment. “The truth of the matter isn’t known to us, but the leading theory among the Circle of Viziers is that an ancient spell was responsible for turning a portion of these constructs into their more biological counterparts. These beings would presumably be your ancestors. The less likely possibility was that the Titans simply looked into Azeroth’s future and chose to shape their servants in your images.”

As someone who already knew the truth of the matter, it was fascinating to see just how close the scholars were getting with their theories. There were even some among the Circle of Viziers who correctly connected this matter to the Void’s proclivity for manipulating flesh. When Azjol-Nerub eventually learned about the Curse of Flesh, Krivax predicted that there would be many smug Viziers being proven right.

“I… reckon I’ve seen somethin’ like that,” Brann said hesitantly, his gaze distant as he lost himself in memories. “I was explorin’ some old ruins in the eastern parts of Khaz Modan and saw a shattered dwarf made of enchanted stone. We thought it was some kind of statue, but it had magic on it that reminded us of the elves' golems. And you say that you folk have seen a lot of these dwarf-shaped constructs up in Northrend?”

“We have. Most of them are alive as well. We don’t know very much about them since they’re either rather aggressive or in dangerous territory, but Azjol-Nerub sees value in working with the Explorers’ League to know more.”

If Krivax ever had any worries about convincing Brann to work with him to explore Uldaman, they disappeared completely when he saw the dwarf’s reaction. Under his safari hat, Brann’s eyes lit up with wonder and excitement as he stared at Krivax as if he had suddenly transformed into a treasure trove of ancient knowledge.

“You have no idea how long we’ve been hunting for answers like these, Vizier Krivax,” Brann said, his voice filled with gratitude and awe. “Of course, I’d be more than willing to cooperate with your people in this. Once this whole audience matter is taken care of, we ought to start plannin’ an expedition to Northrend right away!”

“Actually, I feel like it would be best if we first explore the Titan facility here in Khaz Modan,” said Krivax, going in for the kill as he retrieved the map to Uldaman from his spatial bag. “During the Second War, I decided to hire the Venture Company to search the Eastern Kingdoms for anything resembling the facility on Northrend. We used records provided by the Explorers’ League to choose where we would look, and one of them was successful.”

At this point, Brann was practically vibrating in place as he looked at the map Krivax had unfolded. “Is… Is this truly real? Are you sure I haven’t drunk too much ale and dozed off? If there’s a genuine Titan facility here in Khaz Modan, then there’s no place in Azeroth more likely to hold the secret of my people’s history! I have to get there.”

Krivax was vaguely worried that the dwarf was about to start running to Uldaman right at that moment. “Azjol-Nerub would like to organize an expedition to Uldaman in cooperation with the Explorers’ League immediately after the conclusion of the upcoming post-war summit.”

That seemed to bring Brann back to reality and he let out a string of curses that would make a Kul’Tiran sailor blush. “Damned orcs! First, they stop me from going to Northrend. Then, they kept us holed up in Ironforge for over a year, and now they’re delaying the most important archaeological undertaking in dwarven history!”

“There’s no need to be so upset, Mr. Bronzebeard,” Krivax said placatingly, startled by the dwarf’s anger. “The summit is going to take place very soon now that Ironforge and Gnomeregan have been reconnected to the Alliance. The Alliance can’t afford to leave the matter of the Horde unaddressed for very long, after all.”

Brann began to calm down at the reminder. “I suppose you’re right. This is definitely important enough that it deserves to be taken care of. Besides, I can use this time to plan a proper expedition with all of my top-notch explorers! Oh, and you can just call me Brann, lad. You’ve already done too much to be acting formally.”

Krivax nodded, pleased with the dwarf’s enthusiasm. “Very well, Brann. If all goes well with King Magni, then we should have some time to discuss the matter further while I’m in Ironforge.”

“Oh, I’m sure everythin’ will turn out fine. The audience is mostly just a formality and a way for the Senators to gawk at the strange new foreigners by now,” Brann said dismissively, his focus completely on the map to Uldaman. “Azjol-Nerub is a sturdy nation and you guys have done a great deal for the Alliance durin’ the war. There’s hardly a chance of you bein’ turned away, if you ask me.”

Krivax already knew that to be the case, but it still felt strange hearing it from the King’s own brother. Before he could respond, their conversation was interrupted by one of the guards informing them that King Magni was ready to grant Krivax an audience.

Krivax put away the map and prepared himself before following the guard out of the room with Brann following behind. As he made his way through the halls of High Seat, Krivax did his best to calm his nerves. Once they reached the actual throne room, he was struck by how much different it was from what he remembered from Warcraft.

Like most of Ironforge, the throne room was cavernous with masterfully worked stone and metal along the pillars and walls, from which banners displaying Ironforge’s emblem were on proud display. Large ornate lanterns were cleverly hung from the ceiling to light up the room and draw attention to the throne. The left and right sections of the room had been carved out and filled with seats for Ironforge’s many senators, and Krivax could see their baffled expressions as they stared at him as if he were a strange animal.

Ignoring their inquisitive gazes, Krivax made his way toward the throne at a steady pace. Seated on that throne was King Magni Bronzebeard himself, a regal figure with a long braided beard that perfectly reflected his name. The king’s eyes were sharp and his expression showed nothing about what he was thinking. He wore a resplendent suit of armor which seemed to have been polished to perfection for the occasion. A heavy golden crown adorned his brow, and at his side were two unique and magnificent hammers that glowed brightly with magic.

Once King Magni’s guards informed him that he was close enough, Krivax bowed politely to King Magni before speaking. “Greetings, King Magni Bronzebeard, King of Khaz Modan and High Thane of Clan Bronzebeard. I am Vizier Krivax of Azjol-Nerub, and I have been sent by High King Anub’arak to establish peaceful contact between your people and my own.”

“Well met, Vizier Krivax. I have heard much about your people and you specifically since your arrival in the Eastern Kingdoms,” said King Magni, his voice deep and commanding as it echoed throughout the chamber. “I have heard tales of Azjol-Nerub’s great assistance in fighting against the Horde and your diplomatic efforts toward the other nations of this land. Ironforge welcomes you, and we look forward to a long and fruitful relationship.”

Krivax felt a wave of relief at the king’s words and let out a sigh of relief.

The next portion of the meeting was largely ceremonial in nature as gifts were exchanged between the two nations to commemorate their first meeting. Krivax presented a ceremonial shield made with a titanium frame and protective enchanted silk cloth that displayed the emblem of Azjol-Nerub. Titanium was much rarer in the Eastern Kingdoms than in Northrend, so the gift was meant to display what Azjol-Nerub had to offer.

One of the guards presented Krivax with a master-crafted ceremonial war hammer made from mithril, with several complex runes carved into its head and handle. The symbol of Ironforge was embossed on the hammerhead.

After the gifts were given, King Magni asked several questions about the upcoming summit and the Alliance’s ongoing efforts to deal with the Horde remnants. It quickly became clear to Krivax that he shouldn’t expect Ironforge to show much leniency toward the captured orcs.

He also asked several pointed questions about the settlement Azjol-Nerub would be building on the southern portion of the continent. It would be located between the Northern Elwynn Mountains and the southern side of the Redridge Mountains. This placed them close to the main trading routes to Khaz Modan and Stormwind and also placed Azjol-Nerub on the front lines of anything that might come down south from the Burning Steppes.

The Dark Iron dwarves had never shown any interest in invading Stormwind, but that didn’t mean they never would.

Krivax tried to bring up the idea of a potential trade agreement, but King Magni made clear to him that any such deal should first be discussed in a later meeting with the Senate. Attempts to probe Ironforge’s interest in technological exchange were similarly postponed to a future meeting. A request to establish ambassadors between their two nations was met with assurances that it would be quickly agreed upon by the Senate.

When all was said and done Krivax left the meeting with a feeling that Azjol-Nerub’s ambassador would have to be someone tolerant of and good at bureaucracy. Krivax decided to spend the next week learning everything he could about Ironforge’s political system.

He wished that he had more time, but Krivax expected that he would soon become extremely busy. After all, all of the Alliance’s leaders would soon be meeting in Dalaran to decide the fate of the Horde and discuss what to do about the Dark Portal…

Chapter Text

The private audience with King Magni was not nearly as nerve-wracking as Trixie thought it would be. It was mainly just to get Malzie’s and her personal thoughts on Azjol-Nerub and the nerubians as a whole before he publicly met Krivax in front of the Senate and other important dwarves.

Both of them had spoken honestly to the king. They had told King Magni about how the kingdom was powerful and its people a little standoffish but good at heart. Considering the aid they provided the Alliance during the war with the Horde, the nerubians were practically unofficial members themselves now. While most nerubians weren’t easy to connect with, Krivax, Anub’rekhan, and Masruk had all eventually opened up to her. It was easiest to think of them kind of like the high elves… only less dickish.

She was proud to say she got a laugh out of the king at that.

After assuring them both that he trusted the nerubians and that he just wanted to know the personal experiences of his kin when dealing with them, King Magni informed the guards to allow Krivax into the throne room. From there it was the usual flowery introductions, ceremonial gift-giving, and then followed by a small meet and greet with the upper class of Ironforge.

Malzie helped introduce Krivax to the most important folk. Thane Muradin Bronzebeard, the king’s own brother, talked to the nerubians about leading the Ironforge’s warriors to join the Alliance army’s march south. Malzie’s father, a senator, was very interested in the economic benefits Azjol-Nerub might provide Ironforge in the future after a solid trade deal with the senate had been hashed out. Even Princess Moira Bronzebeard, the heir to the throne of Ironforge, had joined the gathering.

Trixie did notice that Krivax seemed to freeze up with shock at the sight of the princess before he quickly returned to normal. She could understand his reaction given that the dwarves of Ironforge were pretty patriarchal in general. Krivax had probably done some research beforehand, so the idea of a female heir had likely thrown him for a loop.

Trixie found it pretty stupid herself since it shouldn’t matter what was between the legs of the person, only what they could do. That was how gnomes did it after all.

From the rumors she heard back home, King Magni loved his daughter and supported her as his heir, but he would have preferred to have had a son. The King apparently didn’t think a woman could rule as well as a man. Unfortunately, that was something his daughter was certainly aware of.

That had to be hard to deal with. Trixie was glad her family drama was so much tamer in comparison.

If it wasn’t for her boss, Brann himself, tagging along the meet and greet session would have been pretty boring. The Boss though had this energy about him that had him excited and distracted throughout the whole thing. When she asked about it, he only said it was gonna be a surprise once it was all set up and swore Krivax to secrecy in front of her.

Leaving her out of plans and hijacking her friend! How rude! She should complain to management about this abuse of power.

Her silly thoughts aside, Brann only got this way when he was planning a big expedition. Trixie was sure that he had talked to Krivax about a trip to Northrend or something after the mess with the remains of the Horde was dealt with. She was going to make sure that she and Malzie were sure to be included in the expedition.

But that was for later. After all the boring stuff, Brann took Krivax and the nerubian delegation on a tour of Ironforge. The tour turned out to be a very detailed one as Brann excitedly talked about every district, led the nerubians to his favorite shops, and showed the various artifacts in the Hall of Explorers. Once the tour was finally over, it was time for the fun stuff!

“To Gnomeregan!” Trixie said dramatically as she and Krivax bid farewell to Brann and Malzie.

Trixie felt excited as she led the spiderfolk to the main tunnel that led directly to her hometown.

“How long do we have to walk to reach the city through the tunnel?” Krivax asked curiously and reached into his spatial bag for some stamina potions.

“Pssst, walk nothing! We’re traveling in style!” Trixie said as they entered the train depot and showed off their transport. “Say hello to the Gnomeregan Express!”

At her words, the gleaming steam locomotive, a marvel of steam technology, let loose an ear-piercing whistle.

“This baby will turn what would be hours of marching underground into a smooth and comfortable ride there in less than 20 minutes!” Trixie proudly declared.

“Astounding,” Krivax said as he studied the train with a thoughtful expression. “Do you mind if I ask questions about it during the trip?’

“So long as you are ready for me to talk your ear off!” Trixie replied with a smile.

After all, what honest gnome didn’t like tinker talk?

---

“-and that’s how all the excess smoke exhaust is safely pumped out of the tunnel to avoid buildup,” Trixie finished explaining as she and her party disembarked from the train and onto Gnomeregan’s own train station.

“Very interesting and inventive,” Krivax replied as they stopped before a rare group of armed gnomes with a very important person leading them.

“Greetings outsiders, and welcome to Gnomeregan, the most advanced city in the world. I am Sicco Thermaplugg, advisor to the High Tinker, and I will be your escort to the Tinkers’ Court.”

Once again Trixie noticed that Krivax stopped short and examined Sicco Thermaplugg with surprise. She honestly couldn’t blame him; the Vice High Tinker was a big deal after all!

“Greetings Tinker Thermaplugg, you honor us by personally coming to receive us,” Krivax said politely and made a slight bow.

“No need to be too formal, Krivax. We aren’t as gruff as the dwarves after all,” Trixie nudged him in the side to get him to relax.

“It's only right to give proper deference towards one of the leaders of another nation, Trixie,” Krivax returned before turning to Sicco. “I’m sure the Tinker Thermaplugg has a great deal more important things to do than escort us after all.”

“Indeed, but the High Tinker asked and therefore I’m obligated to do so,” Sicco shrugged. “My time is valuable though so I hope we can get this done sooner rather than later.”

“Awww, come on! I really wanted to give Krivax the grand tour! And the court is all the way on the lowest level!” Trixie complained much to Sicco Thermaplugg’s annoyance.

“I’m sure we can do the tour after the meeting is over!” Krivax quickly said to Trixie while looking at Sicco. “That way Tinker Theramplugg here doesn’t have to escort us longer than necessary.”

“Finnnnne,” Trixie grumbled. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Then if you would please follow me,” Sicco said as they began their trek through the city and towards the Tinkers’ Court.

Seriously, why did they have to be stuck with a stick in the mud like Sicco of all people?

---

The Tinkers’ Court, located deep within Gnomeregan, was a large circular metal chamber lit up with spotlights and surrounded by large metal busts of old gnomish kings and High Tinkers gazing down upon their descendants.

It was less a throne room like in Ironforge, since her people have had no kings in centuries, and more a gathering place for all the highly ranked Tinkers in Gnomeregan to come together to talk, swap ideas, and do the boring stuff of governance. Trixie was pretty sure they did as little of the latter as possible, since gnome society was pretty hands off on most things unless it negatively impacted others.

For example, the Office of Quality Control made sure all new inventions and creations met a certain threshold of quality and safety in their blueprints before manufacturing. Last thing anyone wanted was some young gnome rushing things like a goblin and blowing themselves up with their creation randomly, especially if it wasn’t even designed to explode. Otherwise, the government left most gnomes free to come up with any design they wanted to work on.

Anyway, it was a pretty impressive place and naturally where Krivax was guided to officially meet the High Tinker.

“I am honored to give to you a tapestry woven by some of our best Weavers,” Krivax said as he handed the folded-up gift to High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque who, as with most things he did, accepted it with a smile.

Heck, he even unfolded the thing and had a few aides pull it taut to reveal the Vizier Technology Division symbol beautifully woven on it.

“Haha! Very well made! I dare say our automatic looms would need quite a few upgrades to possibly compete with this!” Gelbin laughed as he folded the tapestry back up and put it to the side.

Trixie couldn’t help but laugh since she just knew that would just energize the tinkers who made said looms to improve them.

“In return, I give to you an invention of my own personal design! The suck cannon!” Gelbin said with excitement bringing out an odd device.

Krivax in turn graciously accepted the ‘Suck Cannon’ stamped with the Icon of Technology. Trixie chuckled at his look of confusion at the ovoid-shaped object with a vacuum muzzle at the end and a handlebar at its back with a tube leading to the main mechanism.

“I worked on this prototype myself. It can vacuum up anything and then shoot it back out with a boom,” Gelbin proudly announced. “You see that dent there. I used the Suck Cannon on my half-eaten sandwich by mistake and launched it at the wall.”

“Im-Impressive,” Krivax said as he examined the device gingerly.

“Whether it's cleaning up around the house or the battlefield this baby can suck up the worst of it and shoot right back out!” Gelbin said as he happily demonstrated the device, sucking up a whole cartful of scrap that was dumped onto the floor by another gnome. Then they watched as Gelbin fired off the scrap at some makeshift targets, tearing them to pieces!

She wanted one! She wanted one so bad!

“I’m… sure my people will find a great use for it,” Krivax said as he carefully put the device in his bag.

“Be sure to send me your thoughts as you use it since no device is perfect and upgrading an invention is even more fun than just building it!” Gelbin said with a laugh.

“Of course, and I’m sure my people would love to learn more about your technology in general,” Krivax said. “They were all very impressed at the toys Trixie traded with the tuskarr along with her usage of the shrink ray in battles with the horde. It's not often that we find ourselves lacking knowledge in certain fields of science after all.”

“And we’ll be happy to teach you!” Gelbin said easily enough. “Having more heads around to tinker talk is only a good thing after all.”

“Indeed,” Krivax said before becoming more somber. “While I would love to talk about nice things all day, there are a few political matters to go over…”

“Ah, of course. Nasty business but business nonetheless,” Gelbin said with markedly less cheer but still in good spirits. “We can do that in private later though. I hear one of our own has wanted to give you a tour of our great city! Mind if I tag along? Your guards can wait right here.”

“You bet!” Trixie answered for Krivax.

After all, who would turn down the High Tinker of all people?

---

Their first stop was naturally her family home, who were all very excited to be hosting Gelbin and slightly less so Krivax, but her folks warmed up to him real quick once they realized how nice he was. Not that she blamed them since she had been scared when she had first laid eyes on Krivax and Masruk, and now she could call several nerubians as some of her closest friends.

Thankfully despite being cooped up for over a year her folks and most of the people in the city were just fine. After all, the city of Gnomeregan was well stocked with devices to handle its basic needs and protected with deadly technology. It said something that assaulting Ironforge was easier for the Horde than attacking Gnomeregan. People were still cleaning up the stains off the front gate last Trixie heard.

Only the combat tinkers and flying scouts suffered at all during the siege with the Horde. Things hadn’t been easy for them, but Trixie knew that it could have been much worse. She had seen what the Horde had done to countless human, wildhammer dwarf, and even elf settlements they passed through after all.

The point was her family was safe and in good spirits now that the fighting was over. And after over a year of worrying about them, so was Trixie.

She did go to her room to have a good cry as the relief and bottled-up emotions came pouring out when no one was looking. Trixie’s dad had found her when he went to check on her and simply hugged her until she calmed down.

Man, that was embarrassing. Thank goodness Krivax and the High Tinker didn’t see it and just thought she had gone to the bathroom for a long time.

When she had come back, her younger siblings were attempting to reenact her stories of fighting with Anub’rekhan by clambering onto Krivax’s abdomen and waving wrenches in the air. He took it in good cheer while her parents and Geblin were laughing madly at the children’s antics.

---

After visiting her folks Trixie was happy and proud to show off her alma mater, Gearshaft University.

Trixie was pretty sure the school was happier to see their more famous student, the High Tinker, though. Still, Krivax found the center of learning quite impressive judging by his darting many-eyed gaze. He kept saying how such a place could easily compete with Vizier Ziggurats of Azjol-Nerub, Although he did admit the school was quite a bit noisier than said ziggurats.

As it should be in Trixie’s humble opinion. Engineering and science was not and should never be a quiet thing in her mind.

Once they got over their nervousness with the new tall spiderfolk, the students and educators of Gearshaft were happy to pester Krivax about his kingdom, people, and advances such an ancient kingdom must have made over the millennia. Krivax did his best to try and answer all the countless questions, but Trixie eventually had to go in and save him, much to his relief.

In the end, High Tinker Geblin and Krivax made it clear that in time Azjol-Nerub’s Viziers from the Technology Research Division would visit Gnomeregan and vice versa so everyone could exchange ideas and go through each other’s troves of knowledge. Heh, Trixie wondered how nerubians would find gnomish education.

While they were hanging out at the university, checking out the classes, and examining the numerous projects, Krivax seemed very interested in the various mechs and vehicles. One student apparently was inspired by Krivak’s ‘well-made natural design’ and brought out their own personal project they had started working on. Apparently, the project had originally started with a ‘legpack’ that mimicked spider legs, based on the study of giant spiders native to the Eastern Kingdoms. After hearing about the nerubians exploits against the Horde and Krivax’s visit, said student had been inspired to ‘complete’ the design.

From there Krivax was challenged to a race on the walls and even the ceiling with the gnome student on his legpack, which he gladly humored. In the end, Krivax ended up having to save the fool when his invention malfunctioned while totally upside down.

Still, it was a learning experience about rushing designs and prototypes. The malfunction seemed to encourage him to perfect the design more and challenge Krivax again to another race in the future.

Krivax even admitted that if his duties didn’t take up the vast majority of his time he would be very much tempted to take classes at Gearshaft like he did in Dalaran to learn about their technology in general. She thought he was crazy to argue that the gnome technology was ‘magitech’.

Gnomish technology just being magic in a different form? Crazy talk!

---

After the university, it was off to see the rest of the city! Trixie was glad to see that she could show off all that was great about the city, largely untouched by the war.

All of it seemed to interest Krivax, though he seemed a little nervous at times at all the steam, arcing electricity, large moving gears, and other things that made up her home. It was all perfectly safe so long as you knew where you were stepping.

“It feels like no matter where we go, we are just in another part a giant machine of some kind,” Krivax noted as they watched as a flying machine landed and was stowed back into the launch bay where most vehicles were kept. “It isn’t one big machine, is it? Gnomeregan can’t just get up and walk around, can it?”

“Oh my, no! Though now that you mention the idea…” Gelbin got an inspired look in his eye.

“That was mainly a joke,” Krivax deadpanned.

“And we might just take it as a challenge!” Trixie responded. “I mean, maybe not the whole city, but maybe make each piece its own mobile system…”

“And they could reconfigure and rearrange themselves on their own…” Gelbin picked up on what she was thinking.

“Maybe a linked power system that connects wirelessly with the city’s generators…”

“Have to keep in mind logistics so each one would have to be self-sufficient and have their own resource gathering abilities…”

“Could make them all-terrain so they can travel around the land, sea, and maybe even fly!”

“I feel like I might have started something both terrifying and amazing here,” Krivax muttered to himself, while Trixie and Gelbin started really tinker talking and mentally designing Mecha-Gnomeregan.

Sure, it likely wouldn’t actually result in anything. Gnomeregan had whole vaults full of designs and blueprints of things that never even got to the prototyping stage, because they were too complex, resource-heavy, or faced a million other roadblocks. But that was part of the fun, dangit!

“I’m sure the ambassador eventually assigned here to Gnomeregan will fit right in once I find one who is as excited by technology as the rest of your people,” Krivax eventually said. “More than a few divisions will likely volunteer people for a chance to learn amongst you.”

“We’ll welcome them with open arms. More friends is always a good thing after all,” Geblin said with a smile.

“After all, becoming friends with you in that tuskarr village led to you and your people helping save ours. Who knows what would have happened if we had never met,” Trixie pointed out.

“I’m sure you would have managed well without us…” Krivax started, but Trixie wasn’t having any of it.

“Or maybe we’d have been much worse off. Don’t sell yourself short, Krivax. I don’t regret at all meeting you not so long ago, and I would hope you don’t either,” Trixie said with a stern face.

“Of course not… Thanks, Trixie,” Krivax said with a nod. “Now, what is that I hear about ‘Robot Fight Night’?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, you're in for a treat!” Gelbin stated, leading them towards a loud arena in the corner of the city. “Welcome to the wonders of the magical sport of custom-made robots beating the bolts out of each other.”

Which led to Trixie watching Krivax dodging gears and springs as they flew through the air in the arena…

She needed to teach him how to catch them. How else was he supposed to get souvenirs?

Chapter Text

In a conference room that had been prepared by the Kirin Tor, some of the most powerful individuals in Azeroth had gathered to decide what should be done with nearly a million sapient beings. The representatives from each relevant nation or organization sat around a massive circular table. The general mood was solemn as they waited for the delegation from Gnomeregan to arrive. All of them knew that the upcoming discussion would be a contentious one, and would have a significant effect on the political landscape.

Krivax couldn’t help but note that this wasn’t his first time being at the center of an event that would be written about by historians.

Only a few weeks ago, he received an interview request from one of Dalaran’s scholars to talk about his first meeting with the Explorers’ League in Moa'ki Harbor. Krivax had also been a part of the nerubian delegation’s first meeting with the Council of Seven Nations, another event that people would be talking about for a long time to come. That meeting had set the stage for Azjol-Nerub’s future relations with the Eastern Kingdoms.

Krivax believed that the ongoing political summit could be just as influential on Azeroth’s future as either of those examples. Alexstrasza’s presence had already removed any possibility that the orcs would be wholesale slaughtered, but Krivax knew that how they were dealt with would have enormous consequences.

In the original timeline, the orcs were sectioned away into internment camps and left to rot as they suffered the effects of Fel withdrawal. They became increasingly aloof and lethargic, and the Alliance had gladly used their docile behavior to keep the orcs contained. The security around the internment camps inevitably grew lax, which eventually led to an event that would ensure the reformation of the Horde under a new Warchief.

Thrall, the first orc to reconnect with his people’s shamanist roots since Gul’dan corruption of the Horde, would use his new abilities to free the orcs of their lethargy and break them out of the internment camps. He would lead his people across the sea to Kalimdor, forge alliances with several other races, and reform the Horde as a power that could face off against the Alliance on equal footing. Of course, there were many more important details to that story, but that was essentially what had happened in the original timeline.

It was also a future that Krivax intended to do everything he could to prevent.

While conflict might make Azeroth strong, Krivax had to believe that there was a better way of preparing the world than dooming it to a state of constant war. Given the animosities already formed, it was extremely unlikely that the Alliance and a newly formed Horde would be able to coexist in peace. If Krivax wanted to successfully prevent that kind of future, there were several different things that he could do.

The most straightforward plan was to rescue Thrall from his slave owner and ensure he never grew to be the Warchief of the Horde. With only a few bags of gold, Krivax had been able to find a goblin sneaky enough to confirm that Thrall was currently in the custody of Aedelas Blackmoore. It would be a relatively simple matter for him to rescue the young orc, but he decided to wait until after the Alliance decided what to do with the remainder of the Horde.

Still, even if Thrall wasn’t the one to free the Horde, there was no doubt that just leaving the orcs in the internment camps was a disaster waiting to happen.

Krivax’s ultimate goal was to rehabilitate the Horde into people who could live peacefully with the rest of the world and help protect Azeroth, but that was easier said than done. Regardless of his goals, the people of the Eastern Kingdoms didn’t intend to forgive the Horde for the many atrocities they committed during their invasion. Fortunately, Krivax had a few prospective allies in his goal of turning the Horde from monsters into responsible denizens of Azeroth.

Krivax glanced to the side and studied the figure of High King Anub’arak, who was currently away from Northrend for the first time in his centuries of life. Alexstrasza had paid for the cooperation of Azjol-Nerub with a map of Kalimdor, but the High King truly didn’t care what happened to the Horde. It didn’t matter to him if Horde was killed, enslaved, or welcomed with open arms. As long as they weren’t serving the Old Gods, threatening Azjol-Nerub, or settling on Northrend, the Horde simply wasn’t their problem. The only reason that the High King was even attending this summit was due to diplomatic necessity, and because it gave him the chance to evaluate his fellow rulers.

Krivax suspected that King Anasterian Sunstrider, ruler of the high elves of Quel’thalas, was also here for similar reasons. When he had first seen the high elf, Krivax was surprised that the man actually showed signs of aging, which was not something he was used to seeing from perennially ageless beings. Despite this, the ancient king seemed to move with supernatural grace and his gaze reminded Krivax of the many other timeworn beings that he had met so far.

Beings such as Alexstrasza, who was simultaneously the most powerful person in the room and also the most unpopular. Everyone understood that the Dragon Queen would be pushing for leniency toward the Horde, and nobody liked her for it.

Krivax dearly hoped that Alexstrasza wouldn’t push her agenda too forcefully. It was one thing for the Alliance to reluctantly reach a particular conclusion on their own, and something else entirely when an absurdly powerful being forced it on them.

The only other group that clearly favored leniency was the Church of the Holy Light, which was pretty much obligated to push for rehabilitation by its religious ideology. Gnomeregan, Lordaeron, and Dalaran were all on the fence to various degrees, but pretty much everyone else would prefer that the Horde be exterminated. Even if that possibility was taken off the table by Alexstrasza, it would be a herculean task to convince the various kingdoms to spend the taxes of their citizens on maintaining the Horde internment camps.

This summit would be a difficult one, especially given the hardships and food crises that they were already facing. Plans had been made to cleanse the land, bolster food production, and repair the ravages of war, but all of those things would take a lot of time and effort. Unlike the original timeline, Lordaeron was certainly not in a position to heavily fund the camps themselves.

Glancing over at the hardened expression of Lord Admiral Proudmoore, Krivax knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.

Aside from the Horde, they also needed to make a decision on the Dark Portal and Draenor. Krivax had no idea whether or not Draenor was salvageable, but he was pessimistic on that front. Still, the Dragonflights would probably have a better understanding of where things stood given that they’d already had enough time to learn more about the situation. There were several important plans that Krivax had in regard to Draenor, so he hoped the Alliance would decide against immediately destroying the Dark Portal.

Krivax was pulled from his thoughts as High Tinker Mekkatorque entered the conference room with his entourage following close behind. The High Tinker looked much the same as when Krivax had first met him, an older gnome with a cleanly shaven head and a bushy gray mustache. Even while attending an important political summit, he carried a wrench around his waist and wore a pair of engineering goggles.

Although his apparel was rather strange, Krivax had long since learned to ignore the… eccentricities of Azeroth’s people.

Once the High Tinker took his seat next to King Magni, Grand Magus Antonidas stood from his seat and addressed the room. Given that Dalaran was hosting the summit, it went without saying that the Grand Magus was expected to serve as the moderator for the discussions.

Antonidas cleared his throat and began, “Esteemed leaders and representatives of Azeroth, I would like to welcome you all to Dalaran on such an important day. As we all know, the matters we discuss today will have far-reaching consequences for our world and the future of our various peoples.”

Antonidas swept his gaze through the room as they all remained silent, “We have gathered here to determine the fate of the captured members of the Horde. The… enormity of their transgressions is not something that bears repeating. We all know what they have done and all of us are still suffering the consequences of their decisions. Yet our war against them has been won and we leaders must decide on a path forward. Let us be guided by wisdom as we seek to do what is best for our respective nations.”

Krivax could already tell by the reactions of those present that some of them had very divergent ideas of what was best for their nations.

“In addition to the Horde, we must also decide what is to be done about the Dark Portal and the foreign world that lies beyond,” Antonidas continued solemnly. “The portal itself has reportedly been secured by the Dragonflights, and its magic has been examined by the leader of the Blue Dragonflight, Malygos. According to him, destroying the Dark Portal would successfully destabilize it, but a permanent link between our world and theirs will always remain. After being destroyed, the Dark Portal could be reopened on either world by any powerful enough force.”

This was another change that came about due to Krivax’s actions. Originally, the Alliance would only learn that the connection between Azeroth and Draenor still existed once the orc shaman Ner’zhul reopened it from their side years later. Thanks to Malygos having studied it, they now understood that just destroying the portal wouldn’t get rid of it permanently. The nations at today’s summit would need to develop a more comprehensive strategy to handle the link between worlds in the long-term.

“With that said, I welcome you all to share your concerns and opinions,” said Antonidas as he returned to his seat. The room was quiet for several more moments as everyone looked to see who would speak first.

“Fine. I’m sure you all already know how I feel, so I’ll say my piece first,” said Admiral Proudmoore, already glaring toward Alexstrasza as he leaned forward in his seat. “These animals came to this world and brought nothing but savagery and destruction. I have studied these orcs throughout the war and I see not a single redeeming quality within them. We have all heard by now that the orcs are under the influence of some kind of ‘blood curse,’ but were we not also told that their leaders had willingly drunk the blood of a powerful demon? These creatures ruined their own world and now you wish to give them the chance to ruin our own? How does that make any sense?!”

By the time he was done speaking, Lord Admiral Proudmoore, his face red with anger, had stood up on his prosthetic leg and was practically shouting. Krivax’s heart fell as he saw many of the other rulers nodding along to the Admiral’s speech.

“Here’s my proposal. If you all are too softhearted to do the deed yourself, I say we drive them back through the portal and allow them to live or die in the world they doomed themselves. Let them suffer the consequences of their actions. Would that be ‘mercy’ enough?” The Admiral sat back in his seat, his gaze challenging anyone to argue against him.

Archbishop Benedictus was the first to do so, “Admiral Proudmoore, I will not argue against you from a position of fate, as I know you and several others here do not share my beliefs. I will instead simply say this. What you are suggesting, whether it be done directly or not, is the wholesale slaughter of orc men, women, and children who are incapable of defending themselves. This war has already cost us all dearly. We should not allow it to take any more by setting us all on this dark path.”

“You’re asking us to do far more than spare their worthless lives,” King Greymane said gruffly, sounding just as enthusiastic about helping the Horde as Admiral Proudmoore. “You want us to feed, clothe, and shelter the beasts while we’re struggling to do the same for our own people. I say without exaggeration that my subjects would sooner overthrow me than allow that to happen.”

“If we are all willing to work together, the burden on any one nation wouldn’t be too severe,” said Krivax, hoping to move the conversation in a more positive direction. “Azjol-Nerub is perfectly willing to offer its fair share of gold and resources to contain the threat of the Horde.”

Their kingdom was probably the least economically affected by the war, as none of their territories had been damaged and they had made a sizable profit from selling war beasts to the Alliance. Azjol-Nerub also expected to further profit from the subsequent peace by selling the materials that the Eastern Kingdoms would need to rebuild. Although the kingdom had lost many soldiers once they had formally joined the war, Azjol-Nerub could rebuild their population far quicker than everyone else.

“That assumes that we are all willing to pay for this, but I see no reason to do so,” said King Trollbane

After quickly looking around the room, Krivax came to the conclusion that nobody would be persuaded by arguments of morality. The war was too recent and the scars left behind were too severe, so Krivax instead decided to try a different tactic.

“I think we are all lacking some crucial information necessary to make this decision,” said Krivax, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. “We need to first know more about the magic that is affecting the orcs, and whether or not there is any hope of freeing them from their curse. It would also be helpful to know more about the state of Draenor and Kalimdor. I’m sure many of us would feel more comfortable with the Horde if they were settled far away from our nations.”

At his words, the growing tension in the room seemed to settle down and everyone turned their attention to the Dragon Queen, who had remained quiet up to this point. Given that a lot of the animosity was directed toward her, that had probably been a good idea.

“My brother has thoroughly examined the curse, and it is extremely powerful magic,” said Alexstrasza, her voice calm and assured despite hostility in the room. “It works by establishing a sympathetic link between one of the Burning Legion’s more powerful demons and those who drank their blood. There are only two methods of breaking the curse that we are currently aware of. The first is to slay the demon sustaining the link, which is impossible given that they likely reside within the Twisting Nether. The second method is… significantly more complicated.”

The Dragon Queen took a moment to consider her words before she continued, “According to my brother, the curse functions by heightening the physical abilities and bloodlust of the orcs while in combat. If they are left deprived of combat and new sources of Fel energies, then they will begin to show symptoms of withdrawal as the curse begins to weaken its hold on their people. It should then be possible to replace the curse with another form of magic, triggering a cascading effect that would free the orcs permanently.”

Some of those gathered looked very interested in Alexstrasza’s explanation.

“What kind of symptoms?” Queen Regent Menethil asked curiously.

“Weakness, apathy, and a general lethargy that would gradually spread across their entire populations,” said Alexstrasza.

“If those are the symptoms, then why would we ever want to cure them of it?” asked Admiral Proudmoore, genuinely dumbfounded. “A weak and lethargic Horde would be far easier to contain if you truly insist on us doing so.”

“Logically speaking, should we not want the Horde to be rehabilitated?” High Tinker Mekkatorque asked thoughtfully. Krivax had not been able to stay in Gnomeregan for very long, but he had a feeling that the High Tinker was more interested in making the most rational decisions for his people. “If we leave them in that state, then they can never do anything to fix the damage they’ve done. It also means any clever warlock could pass by and create a new army. But, I agree with Vizier Krivax that we need more data before we can move forward with this discussion. Please continue, Dragon Queen.”

“Thank you, High Tinker,” said Alexstrasza, offering the gnomish leader a faint smile. “The cure for the orcs would need to be both magical and spiritual in nature. What I mean by that is the orcs would both need to be exposed to a new form of magic, and they would also need to consciously reject their old path and set out on a new one. This could be done in any number of ways, from devoting themselves to the Light or embracing Nature magic, but given their historical connection to Shamanism, I suspect that would be the most effective path.”

“Hmmm, I haven’t been convinced that lettin’ these orcs live is the wisest thing, but Aerie Peak could send some of its shamans to help reconnect them to the land,” said Thane Kurdan Wildhammer. The Wildhammer dwarves were the only members of the Alliance who actually practiced shamanism on a large scale, so their help would be necessary.

“The Church would also be willing to lead these orcs to the Light,” said Archbishop Benedictus to nobody’s surprise. The Church would never let go of an opportunity to spread their religion, although Krivax had doubts as to whether or not they would be effective in this case.

After thanking the two leaders, Alexstrasza continued her explanation “As for your questions regarding Draenor and Kalimdor they both hold their own challenges. We were able to discover that a warlock by the name of Gul’dan had thoroughly corrupted the Draenor’s elements with Fel magic. Its environment will continue to gradually degrade, and purifying it would be a herculean endeavor. None of that even begins to take into account the orcs still living on the world and the threat of any potential traps left behind by the Burning Legion.”

At the mention of the orcs still on Draenor, the mood grew even grimmer than it already was. If the Dark Portal couldn’t be permanently destroyed, then it would always be a threat to Azeroth. The magical connection would need to be constantly watched and a garrison would have to be built around it, just in case the Horde or the Burning Legion attempted to pass through the portal.

Draenor was eventually obliterated by Ner’zhul as a side effect of his attempts to open multiple portals away from his world in the original timeline, but that was incredibly unlikely now. The magical artifacts that he would need to destroy Draenor were no longer within reach.

“As for Kalimdor, the night elves are unwilling to allow the orcs to settle on their continent so long as they remain corrupted by Fel magic. They would also be likely to come into conflict with the centaur, who have already killed much of the continent’s native tauren,” said Alexstrasza, her voice growing sad toward the end.

Admiral Proudmoore scoffed derisively before speaking, “For someone who considers themself to be the ‘guardian of life on Azeroth,’ you certainly have no problem allowing savages to kill innocent people.”

Contrary to Krivax’s expectations, Alexstrasza didn’t grow insulted or defensive at the accusation. Instead, she simply looked at Admiral Proudmoore with immeasurable weariness in her eyes. “My duty is to the living beings of Azeroth, and that includes the centaur, the trolls, or any number of people who you would consider to be ‘savage,’ Admiral Proudmoore. If not for the extraterrestrial origin of the Horde and the Burning Legion’s involvement, then I would have never intervened in a mortal war. As much as it might have pained me, I would have allowed them to continue sweeping over this continent, because I cannot allow myself to favor one race over another. From the perspective of my duties, none of your lives are any more valuable than that of a random murloc.”

The Dragon Queen’s words were enough to bring everyone up short, including Krivax. He had no idea what it must be like to look at the world from that kind of perspective, and it made it harder to predict Alexstrasza’s actions. All of the Aspects seemed a bit… warped from the weight of their responsibilities, but the Dragon Queen had always come off as the most normal and empathetic.

Perhaps she still was, but her duties compelled her to take actions that Krivax couldn’t comprehend.

“So to summarize, we can’t send the orcs to Draenor without them either dying or rejoining the rest of their kin and launching another invasion. We can’t send them to Kalimdor without angering some strange elves that I’ve never heard of, and we can’t kill the animals off because you won’t allow it,” asked Admiral Proudmoore, his voice level as he summarized the situation. “Therefore we need to clothe, feed, and shelter them while also going through the effort of rehabilitating them from their demonic corruption. Is that correct, Dragon Queen?”

“It is. I would not normally intervene in mortal affairs, but I have no intention of allowing a genocide now that I have,” said Alexstrasza, her voice firm as she made her position clear.

“Could the Horde perhaps be kept on Northrend while they undergo their… rehabilitation?” asked Queen Regent Menethil.

“No, they cannot,” said High King Anub’arak, speaking up for the first time before Krivax could respond. “The only territory capable of safely sustaining such a large population would be the Howling Fjord. Azjol-Nerub will not allow any outside power to settle that land so long as there exists a risk of them awakening the vrykul.”

The possibility of that happening was admittedly very small, but nerubians still held very strong feelings toward the vrykul even after so much time. When they learned that there was actually a significant vrykul civilization on the Broken Isles, Azjol-Nerub’s leadership had not been happy, to say the least.

“The best course of action would be to construct camps within the Eastern Kingdom to hold the orcs while we seek to free them from their curse. Orgrim Doomhammer and the rest of the Horde leadership should be tried by a council of nations,” said Krivax, deciding that it was time to put forward a proposal now that everyone fully understood the situation. “We can choose where to resettle them after we’ve done that, whether it be on Draenor, Kalimdor, or elsewhere. In addition, it would be in all of our interests to fortify the area around the Dark Portal and also make efforts to learn more about the situation on Draenor.”

Discussions on Krivax’s proposal became intense as everyone argued over the details. Everyone easily agreed that the Alliance should construct fortifications around the Dark Portal to prevent any further invasions and was willing to contribute money and guards. However, the rulers disagreed on how to fund the internment camps and where to establish them.

Alexstrasza was not so subtly pushed to help pay for the camps herself, to which she eventually agreed. Much of that gold could be used to purchase supplies from the goblin cartels that hadn’t participated in the war, greatly alleviating the burden on everyone.

There was also a lot of disagreement over where exactly these camps would be built. Nobody dared to ask Supreme Commander Lothar if Stormwind would be willing to host the orcs, and several other kingdoms were obviously off the table.

Kul’Tiras, Stromgarde, and Gilneas hadn’t seemed to soften their positions in the slightest and Lordaeron was too damaged from the attack on Capital City to offer much help. Much to Krivax’s surprise, King Anasterian remained mostly quiet during the discussion, but the elves were also opposed to hosting the orcs near Quel’thalas.

After much discussion, Alterac eventually said that they were willing to host the internment camps in the Hillsbrad Foothills… for a significant amount of gold. That wasn’t much different from the original timeline, so Krivax wasn’t particularly surprised. Despite that particular hurdle being cleared, they still needed to decide how to provide the guards needed for the camps.

Honestly, it was all very frustrating to Krivax. Azjol-Nerub could easily field the manpower to guard the internment camps but things would be much easier if everyone was willing to pitch in. Unfortunately, many of the rulers seemed to have an ideological opposition to helping the Horde. No matter how much he tried to frame it as something that would be in their own interests they remained immovable.

Thankfully, Gnomeregan had agreed to help once everything was laid out, and Ironforge reluctantly chose to side with their ally. Aerie Peak was also swayed once their fellow dwarves agreed and Dalaran eventually came around as well, but nobody else was changing their minds. Everyone else was only willing to give a minimum amount, and it was clear to everyone that they would prefer to not contribute at all.

They didn’t really have much of a choice given the way things had progressed. Admiral Proudmoore could storm out in anger and refuse to cooperate, but that would just mean that Kul’Tiras wouldn’t have any say in the matter.

In the end, it was decided the orcs would be kept in internment camps within Hillsbrad Foothills. Unlike in the original timeline, the Alliance would separate a group of orcs into a separate camp and attempt to cure them of the blood curse. The Church of Holy Light and the Wildhammer Dwarves would be the ones primarily responsible for doing so. If they both failed, then Krivax always had the option to expose the existence of the Frostwolf Clan, as they should have a few orcish shamans of their own.

Once that separate group was successfully cured, a subsequent discussion could be had about curing the rest of the Horde and resettling them somewhere else. Krivax could already tell that such a conversation would be more than a little complicated…

“Now that a preliminary agreement has been reached on these camps, I believe there is another important matter for us to discuss,” said King Anasterian, directing his gaze toward Alexstrasza. “Quel’Thalas will endure your desire to spare the lives of the common grunts, but my people demand justice. The leaders of the Horde must answer for their decisions.”

“Trials must be arranged for the Horde leadership and any individual orc identified by the survivors of their massacres,” Krivax readily agreed. If someone was able to find the specific orc that killed their family members, then there was no reason to deny them justice.

He knew that people would need someone to point their anger toward if they were ever going to tolerate the rest of the Horde, and frankly, Krivax felt the same. Any trial would be little more than a way to document all of their crimes before executing them, but Krivax couldn’t muster the will to be concerned about treating the orc leadership fairly. Originally, Orgrim Doomhammer and many of the other chieftains had either escaped or died in battle. Krivax hoped that the public spectacle of putting them on trial and executing them would help people find closure.

The summit would last for several more days as they went over the minute details, but Krivax was fairly satisfied with how things were going. As long as a new hostile Horde wasn’t allowed to be recreated, Azeroth would truly be on the path to solving many of its future problems by the time he returned from Uldaman.

Assuming that everything went to plan, of course…

Chapter Text

“You know, I wasn’t quite expecting this much walking,” said Krivax as he chugged down another stamina potion and recast the ward protecting him and his guards from the desert heat of the Badlands.

“Blame yourself for being too big to ride the rams!” Trixie called out from atop a large pink mechanostrider, the ostrich-shaped machine easily keeping pace with the dwarven rams. “We’d be making better time if you hadn’t brought so many guards.”

“Yeah, well, Azjol-Nerub can’t just let me run around without any guards,” Krivax grumbled as he stepped over debris from a broken orcish catapult. “Especially not when there might be Horde running around and I’m about to enter a potentially dangerous Titan facility.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Krivax? Weren’t you excited to get away from all your diplomatic stuff?” Trixie asked teasingly.

“My sense of adventure died when I realized we would have to walk through several miles of desert,” Krivax deadpanned.

“Ha! You best get used to it, lad. The life of an Explorer isn’t glamorous,” chuckled Brann Bronzebeard from the front of the caravan. Along with Krivax’s eight guards, Brann had brought along several Explorers’ League researchers and wagons carrying important surveying equipment. Since much of the equipment had very sensitive enchantments, they couldn’t be carried along in a spatial bag. “Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. I’m sure you need to get back to your important business. What with the trials goin’ on and all that.”

Krivax groaned at the reminder. The summit had lasted an entire week as they hashed out the details of their agreements and the so-called Dalaran Trials began. One by one, the Horde leadership was being pulled out in chains from the Violet Hold and brought before an Alliance tribunal to answer for their actions. It was a necessary process, but it had already been a month since they started and Krivax wasn’t interested in sitting through the rest of them.

“Do you know how much farther we have to go, Brann?” asked Krivax, hoping that he didn’t sound like an impatient kid. “If I have to keep drinking these potions, I’m going to end up with alchemical poisoning.”

“Shouldn’t be too much longer now,” said Brann, retrieving the map to Uldaman from his saddlebag. “Accordin’ to the goblins you hired, we just need to head west as soon as we enter the Badlands from Loch Modan and look for a cave.”

Krivax hoped that he was right. “ Have you been to many locations left behind by the Titans before?”

“A few times, but only a few of them had anythin’ we could work out,” Brann admitted. “One of them was why my brothers and I started the Explorers’ League! We found some hints that the Titans were related to our people’s origins.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad to be traveling with someone with your experience,” Krivax said, genuinely relieved. Considering how dangerous Titan facilities could be, Uldaman was one location in which he didn’t fully trust his metaknowledge.

“Aye, lad. There’s no need to worry, I’ve brought a lot of useful gadgets to make sure we don’t get done in by any nasty surprises,” said Brann, gesturing toward the wagon hauling the equipment. “Plus we’ve got those scary guards of yours. I hear you nerubians are really good fighters underground, so we should all be safe.”

That was true enough. Azjol-Nerub took his safety very seriously and decided to send some very capable warriors to escort Krivax. If he had not argued that he needed to be part of the expedition due to his experience with sensing and countering Void magic, Krivax wasn’t sure the council would have allowed him to go at all.

“So, what are those ‘gadgets’ actually for?” Krivax asked curiously.

“Oh, it’s just a wee collection o’ contraptions our pals in Gnomeregan whipped up,” Brann explained, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Last time we stumbled into a Titan-related site, we faced some terrifyin’ defenses. They really didn’t want folks diggin’ into their secrets. These gadgets ought to help us detect them early on and deal with them when needed.”

“I made this one so that we can monitor our path back to the camp,” Dulink, one of the gnome tinkers who had joined the expedition, said as he pulled out a gnome artifact that looked like a cross between a camera and a ray gun. “This one detects any motion and automatically freezes them solid.”

Krivax glanced dubiously over at the wagon filled with strange machines. Warcraft was a setting that frequently delved into things that would be more fitting in a sci-fi novel, which often made things very confusing. He had already given up on figuring out how gnomish technology worked a long time ago, but he knew it tended to be… unpredictable at best.

The less said about goblin technology the better.

“Well, I hope they work the way that you expect them to. If this place is anything like the facility in Northrend, then we’ll be needing them,” said Krivax, knowing full well that Uldaman contained many potential dangers.

“Hey! Are you doubting gnomish technology?” Trixie protested indignantly.

“Yes,” was his deadpan reply.

Trixie huffed at Krivax’s response, while Brann just laughed. “Oh, don’t be so hard on the lad, Trixie. He’ll learn to appreciate gnomish inventions soon enough.”

The two of them continued to bicker until they finally closed in on their destination. When they did, Krivax was surprised by how unremarkable the entrance to the Titan facility actually was. If not for the enchanted marker left behind by the goblins, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish it from any other hole in the side of a rocky cliff.

Deciding that it would be a good idea to scout ahead before running blindly into a dark cave, Krivax established control over one of the skitterers he had brought for this exact purpose. After casting the spell that would allow him to look through its eyes, Krivax slowly sent the skitterer forward into the cavern entrance in search of any dangers.

“Well? Spotted anythin’ yet?” asked Brann after waiting for several minutes.

“You’re going to need to give me a little more time than that. The caverns are expansive and I’m taking things slowly,” Krivax replied, his voice distant as he focused on the skitterer’s vision. He could already tell that this place was different from what his metaknowledge suggested, as these caverns only had a single path in Warcraft. “However, I’ve already passed by a few dangerous beasts down here. A lot of giant bats, and even a pack of basilisks.”

The skitterer was lucky that it was too fast for the six-legged lizard creatures to catch, or it would already be sitting in one of their stomachs.

“Basilisks? Don’t they need to eat a lot? What’re they doing just sitting in an uninhabited cave?” asked Trixie, her voice filled with confusion.

“Notice anythin’ odd about those beasties, lad?” Brann asked, concerned. “Basilisks in particular are prone to being changed by magic.”

Krivax quickly directed his skitterer to the closest pack of the beasts and checked. “Most of them have giant stone spikes growing out of their backs. One of them looks like it’s mostly made of jade.”

“Aye, we can be certain we’ve found the right spot. Y’see, critters like those tend to sustain themselves on magic and stick close to spots filled with it,” Brann said excitedly.

The other researchers from the Explorers’ League were just as excited and began eagerly talking among themselves, but Krivax didn’t allow it to distract him. He knew that they were about to walk into somewhere incredibly dangerous, and he intended to scout every nook and cranny so they didn’t stumble onto anything they couldn’t handle.

The caverns were mostly empty and quiet, but Krivax felt his caution had been proven warranted when he spotted a half dozen goblin skeletons in one of the tunnels. He had enough experience with fire spells that he could tell that they had all died by a concentrated gout of flame. After repeating his findings to the rest of the expedition, the mood among the group quickly sobered.

“Any sign of what killed them?” Trixie asked, her expression solemn.

Instead of answering, Krivax directed the skitterer down the tunnel where the goblin remains were found. As the skitterer advanced, it came upon a large cavern containing two crumbling and worn-down statues carved in such a way that they appeared to be holding up the ceiling. In between the two statues stood a gate made of a material that resembled marble. Strange arcane runes covered the front of the gate, but only half of them still glowed with any magic; their light flickering weakly. The rest had long since faded, leaving the runes barely legible.

Krivax couldn't help but wonder what the gate to the Titan facility had looked like when it was still in a state of good repair.

In the heart of the cavern stood an unmoving figure, a large humanoid golem made of stone and metal. It stood at around eight feet tall, had proportions far bulkier than any human, and had rune-covered arms. Krivax recognized several of the runes as being related to fire. It was clear to him that the golem was the one responsible for killing the goblins and would likely attack anyone who tried to enter Uldaman.

Krivax reported his findings back to Brann, who seemed torn between excitement and solemnity.

“By the gods, a Titan golem!” Brann exclaimed, eyes wide with wonder. He wasn’t the only one, as the rest of the expedition was similarly amazed. “I’ve seen similar constructs before, but they’re usually dormant or broken down. This one’s still functionin’ and guardin’ the entrance!”

“Imagine how much we could learn from it if we took it back to Gnomeregan,” Trixie mused, her voice nearly reverent.

“We’ll have to be careful if we want to get past it without taking any casualties,” said Krivax as he directed the skitterer back to the surface. “I don’t want any of us ending up like those goblins.”

The Captain of Krivax’s guards, Rahtep, asked, “Can the golem reach the ceiling? If so, we can clamber onto the cavern's walls and attempt to web its joints from a safe distance.”

Krivax replied, “Unfortunately, I think the golem’s arms can send flames at anyone on the ceiling. However, I think jamming the spears into its joints can immobilize the golem. I can cast a barrier to protect you briefly from the flames.”

“Very well, Vizier Krivax,” Rahtep replied and turned to command the guards.

“We could probably deactivate it with some of our gadgets, but we should probably save them for the gate and the rest of the place. I don’t want to have come all this way just to get stopped by a door!” said Trixie.

“I think we should tackle the golem head-on,” Brann said, thoughtfully stroking his beard. “It’ll give us a good idea of the state of Uldaman’s defenses. We can always retreat if the golem is too powerful and come back with more equipment and bodies if needed. After all, we’re not that far away from Ironforge.”

Once the preliminary plan to deal with the golem was decided, Krivax summoned a ball of light to illuminate the way and directed his guards to the front as they all began making their way carefully down the caverns. There were a few occasions in which they were attacked by the giant bats Krivax had noticed earlier, but his guards easily skewered them as soon as they got close.

Thanks to his guards, Krivax didn’t even have to fight and he could focus on scouting ahead with the skitterer and expand the tunnels with geomancy as necessary. When they finally reached the cavern where the Titan golem was standing, the group paused to assess and prepare for the confrontation with the golem. The researchers without any combat experience fell to the back while the rest of the expedition prepared for a fight.

“Alright everyone, let’s do this carefully and efficiently,” Brann called out and he readied his rifle. “Remember, our goal is for all of us to get through this alive.”

Not seeing the need to give a dramatic speech for a single golem, Krivax merely nodded toward his guards, prompting them to advance slowly into the cavern. After a few moments, Krivax, Trixie, and Brann followed behind as everyone spread out to surround the golem. Unfortunately, they didn’t get very far before the golem seemed to detect them and suddenly activate.

The golem’s body creaked and groaned as it came to life, the runes on its arms flaring with bright red-orange light. Its eyes glowed the same fiery hue as it slowly turned its head towards the nearest nerubian guard and spoke with a robotic voice. Despite speaking in a language Krivax had never heard before, he was still able to understand its meaning.

“Unauthorized intruders detected. Initiating defense protocol.”

With those words, the golem lifted its arms and released a stream of red-hot flames that lit up the previously dark cavern. Krivax immediately leapt into action, throwing up an arcane barrier to protect his guards from the golem’s attack. The barrier held, but Krivax could feel the strain on his magic as the flames licked against the protective shield.

Trixie fired at the golem with her shrink ray, but it seemed to have no effect. Brann’s heavily enchanted rifle was powerful enough to blow a hole through the construct’s head, but it simply ignored the damage and continued to spew flames.

Fortunately, Krivax’s guards were all experienced warriors equipped with the best gear the Azjol-Nerub could provide. Simultaneously, eight nerubian warriors charged at the golem spear first from different directions, piercing all of its joints and preventing the construct from moving any further. It continued its attempts to attack, but a single immobilized golem that had already been degraded by age wasn’t much of a match for the barrage of attacks by Brann, Krivax, and the nerubian guards.

It took some effort, but Krivax’s guards rained down blows relentlessly until the golem's eyes eventually ceased glowing and its body shut down. Once he was certain that the danger had passed, Krivax let out a sigh of relief and made his way over to the inert golem. His guards, led by Rahtep had removed their spears from the joints and took up a loose cordon around the chamber.

“Well, that was unexpected,” said Trixie as she ran up to the construct and started examining it. “I thought a golem made by the Titans themselves would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

“I don’t think this means much. There’s no way to know how functional it was after all this time, and it was only a single golem,” said Krivax, doing his best to prevent the rest of the expedition from getting too full of themselves. “For all you know, we could open that gate and find a hundred of these things waiting for us.”

Krivax hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but it was a possibility, albeit a distant one. There was a time when the Keepers were able to construct entire armies of artificial beings, but most of the ones in Uldaman were probably too degraded to function.

Brann nodded in agreement as he studied the golem with open fascination. “You’ve got a point there, lad. We’ll proceed with caution, no matter what we’ve seen so far.”

“Even if it wasn’t as scary as I thought, this golem is still amazing!” said Trixie, her eyes sparkling. “Imagine what kind of technology the Titans used to create something like this! I’ve examined one of Quel’Thalas’ golems at Gearshaft University, and there’s no way one of those would have lasted as long as this one before shutting down.”

“I’m sure the High Tinker will enjoy studying it when we send it back to Gnomeregan, but I think we should move on,” said Krivax, approaching the gate to Uldaman and looking at the flickering runes. “You said one of your gadgets should be able to open the way forward?”

“Aye, I think so,” Brann replied, running back to the wagon filled with equipment. Krivax was surprised that the rams hadn’t made a fuss during all the fighting, but any ram given to King Magni’s brother must be very well trained. “High Tinker Mekkatorque personally made me something just for this. He called the contraption an ‘Arcane Magic Disruptor,’ so it should do the trick. Now where di—ah, here it is!”

The device looked like nothing more than a plain black cube with a series of buttons and dials on one side. Brann fiddled with it for a few moments before aiming the cube at the gate. With a flick of a switch, the device emitted a beam of energy that struck the runes of the gate. The air in the cavern crackled with arcane energy as the runes grew brightly before suddenly dissipating completely.

A low rumbling filled the cave as the massive doors parted, revealing a dimly lit passage ahead. The expedition exchanged glances, their enthusiasm tempered by the unknown dangers that lay ahead.

“Alright everyone,” Brann said, his voice serious. “Keep your eyes peeled once we enter the facility. Remember, we’re here to learn about the Titans and their history, not to become history ourselves. Krivax, you send one of your little skitterers ahead just in case.”

With a nod of agreement, Krivax did so and was immediately taken in by what he was seeing. Much of the facility was worn down by time, but it was actually in a far better state than he would have expected.

In Warcraft, Titan architecture tended to vary wildly and was based on cultures that existed back on Earth. If Krivax was to describe Uldaman, he would say it resembled a fantasy version of an ancient Greek temple. The halls were filled with large columns and intricate friezes depicting scenes of the Titans and their many creations adorned the walls. The high roof and the large furnishings made it clear that Uldaman had been built for humanoid beings far larger than Krivax had ever seen. Despite there being no obvious light source, the entire structure was illuminated by an eerie light that made Krivax feel uncomfortable.

As he directed the skitterer forward, it quickly became clear to him that Uldaman was much larger in reality than it was depicted in Warcraft.

“I think we’re safe to move forward,” Krivax said once it became clear that there wasn’t an army of constructs waiting for them.

As the expedition ventured into the ancient facility, Brann, Trixie, and the other researchers marveled at everything they saw. There were many times that the group had to stop for them to take notes and sketches of the various structures they found.

Krivax continued to scout for threats ahead with his skitterer and stumbled upon several more golems. Thankfully, they were rather few in number and simple to dispatch with a little planning and preparation. At some point, the group stumbled on the inert form of what Krivax recognized to be a Titanic Watcher, which were giant humanoid constructs created by the Titans to lead their armies and run their facilities. It was around fifteen feet tall, looked to be made completely out of stone, and was slumped over in a corner of the room with an oversized book and a strange staff at its feet.

Thankfully, the being didn’t suddenly wake up and attack them, even when Brann eagerly ran over to the book and tried to read what was inside. Krivax wasn’t willing to take any chances and he quickly grabbed the staff before ushering the group along when it became obvious that the book wasn’t written in any modern language.

The rest of the exploration continued in that manner, with them occasionally destroying golems, Brann disabling traps before Krivax could clumsily activate them, and Trixie gushing over every piece of broken Titan technology they found. Krivax was enjoying himself just as much as he expected he would. Exploring the wonders of Azeroth was something that he had always wanted to do, but his duties had always gotten in the way.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before his skitterer stumbled on a room that sharply reminded Krivax how dangerous this place truly was.

“Everyone stay together and don’t run ahead. We need to be extremely careful when we enter the next room,” Krivax said solemnly.

“Another golem, lad?” Brann asked, gripping his rifle.

“No. There shouldn’t be a fight, but I’m not sure how to explain it to you,” Krivax said after a moment of hesitation. “I think you need to see this for yourself.”

Everyone exchanged worried glances, but they trusted Krivax’s judgment and followed his instructions. As they entered the room, they were met with a sight that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The chamber was vast and circular with numerous doors and passageways branching off in every direction. The most striking feature of the room, however, was the seemingly endless amounts of unmoving malformed creatures being held behind barriers of arcane magic. They were humanoid and about the same size as a dwarf, but far more bestial in appearance.

“What are these things?” Trixie whispered as if she were afraid to awaken the creatures surrounding them.

“I don’t know, lass, but I think we’d be better off avoiding them,” said Brann, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“I think you’re right. We should leave this place and move on,” Krivax agreed.

He knew exactly what these creatures were, and his companions were right to fear them. Uldaman was created for the express purpose of containing the troggs, which were the Keepers’ first attempt at creating sentient life. In the original timeline, the group that first discovered Uldaman inadvertently released the troggs, who then poured out of the facility and launched an attack on Gnomeregan. This would start a chain of events that resulted in Gnomeregan being completely irradiated and a large portion of the gnomish population being killed.

As they ventured deeper, they came upon several more rooms dedicated exclusively to storing the troggs. It wasn’t until they stumbled into a cavern with a large model map of Uldaman in all its former glory embedded in the floor that Krivax finally found what he was looking for. His true purpose for going to Uldaman was always so that they could, hopefully, make peaceful contact with the Keeper inside, and this model map was the key to doing so if his metaknowledge was accurate.

While the rest of the group was gushing over the map and discussing amongst themselves, Krivax walked over to one of the model structures and gestured toward the keystone embedded into it. “Brann, I think this might be some kind of key. It’s shaped exactly like the staff we found earlier.”

Trixie and Brann quickly made their way over and saw that he was right.

“There’s a good chance that it opens that gate,” said Trixie, glancing nervously toward the forty-foot-tall gate on the other side of the cavern. It looked exactly like the one at the entrance to Uldaman, except the runes carved into its surface were still glowing brightly with magic. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to open it, though? We have no idea what’s on the other side.”

If Krivax actually had no idea what was on the other side, then he would be the first to agree with Trixie. However, this was crucial to making peaceful contact with the Keeper, so he quickly moved to soothe her fears.

“I know it’s a risk,” Krivax acknowledged. “But this is also our best chance to learn more about the Titans and this facility. We need to know more about where those creatures came from and what kind of danger they are. We’ve been able to handle everything that we’ve come across so far, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“The lad has a point,” Brann agreed, stroking his bushy beard thoughtfully. “This place is the grandest archaeological find in our people’s history. We’ve come this far, and we can’t let fear hold us back now. If there’s a chance that openin’ this gate will give us the answers we seek, then we have to take it.”

Trixie hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s do it. Just… be ready for anything, okay?”

Krivax nodded, gripping the staff tightly. He’d been preparing for this from the moment that he learned that Deathwing had escaped, and the time had finally come. As long as he succeeded here today, Azeroth would be saved from one of the most devastating events in its history. Krivax directed Rahtep and his guards to take up defensive positions before pushing the staff into the keystone with a click.

The model map of Uldaman immediately lit up as streams of magic flowed into the staff. After a few moments, it emitted a beam of magic into the nearby gate. Just like at the gate at Uldaman’s entrance, the runes glowed brightly before suddenly dissipating altogether. As the gates swung open, Krivax felt the ground shake from the footsteps of the being that emerged.

Unlike the Titanic Watcher that they had come across before, this one was very much active. She stood at an imposing thirty feet tall and looked like a beautifully carved marble statue of antiquity. She carried a large maul and wore a robe of seemingly flowing bronze robe and metal greaves.

“None may steal the secrets of the Makers! Who dares disturb these halls?!” said the Titanic Watcher, her voice reverberating strangely as she swept her gaze over the expedition.

Her eyes softened minutely when landing on the dwarves and gnomes present but immediately turned hostile the second she noticed Krivax and his fellow nerubians. “Aqir! Disgusting spawn of the Old Gods! You dare befoul Uldaman with your presence?!”

Before anyone could react, the Titanic Watcher was already charging toward them with its weapon raised. Krivax was barely able to conjure a barrier of ice around them before it swung down with murderous intent. Although he had grown much stronger since he first came to the Eastern Kingdoms, Krivax still felt as if his barrier was stuck by an angry Spiderlord.

Retrieving a flask from his spatial bag, he quickly threw it onto the ground and watched as a living, silvery liquid surrounded the expedition and formed a secondary shield between them and the Titanic Watcher. Krivax was extremely glad that he had purchased the flask from Archmage Karlain because his wall of ice shattered completely from the next attack.

“Brann! Try talking to her! She seems to think we’re her enemy but she might listen to you!” Krivax yelled over the noise of their barrier being literally hammered.

Brann hesitated for a moment, but soon stepped forward and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Wait! Please, listen to us! We’re just explorers here to learn about our history!”

“Silence, traitor! I’ll not listen to one corrupted by the Curse of Flesh as they consort with the aqir!”

Brann continued trying to plead his case and Krivax tried to explain that they weren’t aqir, but the Titanic Watcher didn’t seem interested in listening. Eventually, Krivax realized that this wasn’t going anywhere and he decided to move on to his contingency plan. As he reached into his spatial bag Krivax could tell that she was watching him warily, which made his next actions much easier.

Channeling his magic into the Light-infused scepter that he had borrowed from the Church of the Holy Light, Krivax watched as the Titanic Watcher suddenly reeled back in surprise as she faced the entirely unexpected action. He had known there was a chance that the Keeper and the Titanic Watchers would associate him with the Old Gods, so Krivax had made sure to bring something that could prove otherwise.

Krivax heavily favored arcane magic and only had limited experience channeling the Light from practicing with Anub’rekhan. Without such a powerful object of Light, he probably wouldn’t have been able to do so at all. That meant that it basically did nothing to the Titanic Watcher, but that wasn’t his intention. A true aqir would never be able to even hold an object of Light, let alone use it. That was why when he unleashed its power before the Watcher and stood unharmed, it gave her pause. One which he didn’t hesitate to make use of.

“I am a nerubian of the kingdom of Azjol-Nerub to the far north! It is true we are descended from the ancient aqir, but we are not them!” Krivax shouted out. “We have abandoned our ancestors’ ways and freed ourselves from the Old Gods’ and the Void’s influence! We are not here to harm the legacy and works of the Titans, but to learn from it alongside its descendants!”

Krivax stepped forward with his arms raised beseechingly, hoping dearly that his plan would work out.

The Titanic Watcher stared down at him searchingly, studying Krivax and the other nerubians with a critical eye that seemed to see through them. After several terrifying moments, she stepped back and lowered her weapon, the anger in her expression replaced by curiosity.

“I believe your words, creature,” she said slowly. “The Void clings not to your forms and no aqir I have ever known has spoken to me with such resolve, nor have they channeled the Light without sustaining great injury. Explain to me why you have come to Uldaman and how you have bypassed the facility's defenses.”

Krivax took a deep breath, grateful for the reprieve. “Thank you. My name is Krivax, and we are part of an expedition led by Brann Bronzebeard. We’ve come from Ironforge and Gnomeregan to learn more about the Titans and the ancient history of the dwarves. We have no intention of causing harm or taking anything without permission.”

They had already picked up several items during their exploration, but it was obviously better to leave them behind than get squashed by an angry stone giant.

The Titanic Watcher considered his words, her gaze shifting between the members of the expedition. “Your intentions appear to be genuine, but know that I am Ironaya and I am responsible for protecting these halls and all they contain. You have not explained to me how you managed to bypass our defenses. A party of your strength should not have been able to get past them.”

“Well, we fought or deactivated what defenses we came across, but the things seem to be in a… state of disrepair,” Brann explained with a grimace. “Sorry to tell you, your ladyship, but I think you’ve been asleep for a really long time. We also used this little contraption to get past the front gate.”

Ironaya bent forward as Brann presented her with the Arcane Magic Disruptor and carefully picked up the device between her thumb and pointer finger, before bringing it close to her face and examining it.

“Still so clever…” he heard her mutter to herself in amazement before looking back down at them. Afterward, Ironaya finally turned her gaze away from them and took in her surroundings, especially the poor state of the whole map chamber. “How long have I been in stasis?”

“There’s no way to know, but I imagine you’ve been in stasis from at least before the Sundering,” Krivax explained.

“The what?” Ironaya responded with obvious bewilderment.

This… might take a while, Krivax thought to himself as prepared for a long conversation.

Chapter Text

Ironaya frowned as Krivax and Brann explained that the Sundering was a cataclysmic event that had shattered apart Azeroth’s old landmass. She then instructed the expedition to follow her back to the room she had emerged from in order to perform some rudimentary diagnostics on Uldaman. Krivax was quite sure that the room was pretty much empty in Warcraft, but that apparently wasn’t the case in reality.

Once they entered, Ironaya waved her hand and a section of the wall slid open, allowing a strange mechanical orb surrounded by connected bars of light to float out. Krivax wasn’t quite sure how the thing worked, but Ironaya spent several minutes staring at the thing before turning back to them.

“Significant sections of this facility’s sensors have been damaged. Alert mechanisms designed to inform me or Keeper Archaedas of irregularities have become nonfunctional. Systems indicate a duration of sixteen thousand, five hundred, and forty-two years since my entry into stasis. Facility impairment aligns with a disaster akin to the one you have described. Detail the origins of the Sundering, mortals. There are limited events capable of generating such widespread destruction.”

The expedition spent several moments trading glances before Brann decided to speak up. “That’s a wee bit complex, and we only just discovered the whole truth ourselves, thanks to the dragons. I reckon it’d be best if our friend Krivax took the reins and filled ye in on the details.”

“What? Why me?” asked Krivax, glancing down at Brann with an incredulous expression.

Dealing with stuff like this was one of the primary reasons he’d specifically approached Brann in the first place.

“What are you sayin’, lad? You’re the diplomat around here. Besides, don’t you nerubians have a bit more know-how about ancient history than the rest of us?”

…Damn. That makes a lot of sense.

Krivax winced as he tried to put together the words as Ironaya turned her gaze to him. It wasn’t every day that you had to explain to a thirty-foot-tall magical robot exactly how messed up the world had gotten while they were asleep.

“I suppose I should begin by asking if you’re familiar with the kaldorei, or night elves as they’re more commonly known,” said Krivax, deciding to just start at the beginning.

“I am not. Arcane-Driven Language Interpretation Enchantments are transmitting images of an unknown being,” said Ironaya, her voice remaining monotone and steady.

“Wait a minute. Is your translation magic reading our minds?” asked Trixie, her voice stuck between wonder and concern.

“Incorrect. My translation systems function through principles similar to arcane divination.”

“That sounds amazing! You’ve got to teach us how to make something like that,” said Trixie, apparently deciding on wonder.

“The secrets of the Makers are not to be shared with outsiders,” Ironaya said harshly, her voice changing tone for the first time since she stopped attacking. Before any of them could respond, the Titanic Watcher turned back to Krivax. “Proceed.”

Sensing that she was starting to get impatient, Krivax quickly launched into his explanation. “Around fifteen thousand years ago, a tribe of trolls settled near a powerful font of arcane magic called the Well of Eternity near the center of the Pre-Sundering continent. After living near the well for many generations, the trolls were gradually turned into elves by its energy and learned to wield powerful arcane magic. They used this new power to conquer most of the continent and create the Kaldorei Empire.”

Ironaya remained unsettlingly still as Krivax explained the events leading up to the Sundering.

“The kaldorei ruling class, known as Highborne, became decadent and obsessed with power, the worst of whom was Queen Azshara, who made contact with an army of demons called the Burning Legion. The Highborne used the Well of Eternity as a portal to allow the demons to invade Azeroth in the name of their master, Sargeras. The War of the Ancients is really complicated and I don’t know all of the details myself, but the end result was that the kaldorei resistance, the Dragonflights, and the Wild Gods were able to win the war. Unfortunately, the Well of Eternity was destroyed in the aftermath, causing an explosion that destroyed most of the world.”

There was a lot that Krivax didn’t include in his explanation, such as the fact that Azshara was still alive and had aligned herself with the Old Gods in the aftermath of the war. She and her followers had been turned into naga and ruled the underwater empire of Nazjatar. Honestly, Krivax could go on talking for hours, but he understood well that he should keep things succinct so that it wouldn’t get overwhelming.

Even as stoic and unmoving as she was, there were still several moments that revealed Ironaya’s tumultuous emotions. When Krivax mentioned Sargeras in particular, the Titanic Watcher seemed nearly stricken with grief. That was unsurprising given that Sargeras was one of her former Titan masters, who betrayed and killed the rest of the pantheon.

Krivax continued on to talk about more recent events after he finished explaining the Sundering, such as Deathwing’s corruption, the general state of the world, and finally the First and Second Wars. Ironaya was extremely concerned about anything related to the Void and seemed to think that it was important enough that she needed to take them to the Keeper.

“This must be brought to Archaedas, immediately.”

“Who’s that?” Trixie asked curiously.

“Archaedas is one of the nine Keepers, those few among us who were chosen by the Titans themselves to lead us in their absence,” Ironaya explained as she made her way out of the room and started striding down a nearby hall. Krivax and the rest of the expedition hurried to follow after her. “He is the one responsible for Uldaman, and it is vital that he hears what you have told me.”

There wasn’t much room for more conversation as they did their best to keep up with Ironaya’s long strides as several large doors opened with her approach. The deeper portions of the facility seemed to be in a far better state than the rest, and they quickly passed by several golems and dwarves made completely of stone. Krivax could tell that Brann wanted to burst into a flurry of questions upon sighting them but held his tongue as they kept following after their tall guide.

“Be honored, mortals. You are the first of your kind to enter Khaz’goroth’s Seat,” said Ironaya as she opened the final door and stepped into a grand chamber filled completely with golems and stone dwarves.

In the center stood the inanimate form of another Titanic Watcher, although this one emanated waves of power even in its current dormant state. His body was constructed from a mixture of various grayish-blue metals and minerals that Krivax couldn’t recognize, and his eyes glowed brightly with magic. He wore a cloak over surprisingly simple armor and carried a massive hammer in his right hand.

“Archaedas,” Ironaya said reverently, her voice echoing in the chamber. She stepped forward and placed her hand on the Watcher’s chest, a wave of energy pulsating from her touch.

The very air seemed to vibrate with power, and Krivax and the others watched in awe as Archaedas slowly came to life. The Keeper’s gaze swept over his surroundings, focusing on their little group for a moment, and his voice boomed with the sound of rumbling stone when he eventually spoke. “Ironaya, why have you awakened me and brought creatures of flesh into our inner sanctum with aqir by their side?”

Ironaya bowed her head respectfully before answering, “Archaedas, these mortals bring important news from beyond Uldaman. I have verified that these creatures are not aqir, and are free from the Void’s influence. Please check for yourself.”

“Hold on there. Is there something wrong about us being made of meat? I’ve seen some of those stone dwarves we passed by. Do they have something to do with it?” asked Brann

“The earthen are our servants. Created by myself and the other Keepers for the purpose of shaping the subterranean regions of this world,” said Archaedas, looking down at Brann with an inscrutable gaze. “Prior to my stasis, our servants were displaying symptoms of the Curse of Flesh, which progressively transformed their physical composition to one made primarily of organic matter. This same curse was affecting the class of titan-forged servants that Keeper Mimiron referred to as the mechagnomes.”

“Wait, are you telling us that our bodies are the result of a curse?” Trixie interjected, her voice filled with disbelief.

“In a sense, yes,” Archaedas replied, his voice unwavering. “The Curse of Flesh is a corruption originating from the Old Gods, who sought to weaken our titan-forged creations. It was theorized by myself and Keeper Mimiron that flesh would render our servants more susceptible to Void corruption. Your current state is a threat to the security of this facility. To ensure the safety of Uldaman, comprehensive scans will be required to verify the absence of Void corruption within your beings.”

Krivax was suddenly extremely glad that he had never decided to mess with the Void. He had no doubt that Archaedas would absolutely kill them if he detected even the slightest amount of corruption. None of them feeling like they had anything to hide, the expedition quickly agreed to be thoroughly examined by Archaedas. Another one of those floating orbs, similar to the one that Ironaya was using earlier, appeared next to the Keeper and began circling the expedition while emitting a gentle beam of light that scanned each of them in turn.

As this was going on, Ironaya agreed to answer Brann’s questions about the past while Archaedas simultaneously examined the test results and ran every diagnostic test that he could on Uldaman.

“Aye, so if I’m understandin’ you correctly, our dwarvish and gnome ancestors would have come from facilities like this one, after being turned meaty by that Curse of Flesh, eh?” Brann questioned, his eyes wide and his voice shaky with excitement. The rest of the expedition was equally enthralled by the revelations, listening intently as Ironaya continued to share the ancient history of their people.

“Correct. If the world’s land has become as shattered and disconnected as you say, then it is probable that the origin of your ancestors traces back to this specific facility,” said Ironaya, her voice exhibiting a touch of emotion. “Uldaman once contained the highest density of earthen and mechagnome populations in this portion of the world.”

Several members of the expedition began to take in their surroundings with a hint of reverence at the Watcher’s words. Krivax had no doubt that Ironforge and Gnomeragan would name Uldaman as a site of great historical importance to people once word of their discovery spread.

“But, what were those… things that were trapped behind those magical barriers we saw earlier? They don’t look like any race that I’ve seen before,” Trixie asked curiously.

“The entities you are referring to, designated as troggs, were products of an unsuccessful first attempt to create the earthen. They were overly aggressive, simple-minded, and difficult to manage. We opted to seal these constructs due to their inferior design, and this installation was established for containment purposes. Subsequent to the arrival of myself and Keeper Archaedas, it was refitted with a complex monitoring system. We had not anticipated that such a large catastrophe would cause such widespread damage and result in us being kept in stasis for so long.”

Krivax hadn’t actually known why the two of them never came out of their stasis in Warcraft until someone woke them up, so this additional information was quite helpful.

“If you don’t mind me saying, I think you should prioritize checking on whatever’s holding them and making sure they stay contained,” Krivax suggested, thinking about the destruction they would cause if they escaped. “I believe that the Curse of Flesh has totally changed them and they are now entirely organic beings. They probably won’t be eager to listen to orders anymore, so I’m not sure how… effective the stasis chambers holding them will be if they wake up.”

“Your suggestion is heard, but unnecessary. Creating and maintaining the Titan facilities across Azeroth is the explicit duty of Keeper Archaedas, and myself as his subordinate. We will do everything in our power to fulfill the duties assigned to us by the Makers,” Ironaya said with conviction.

After hearing that, Krivax suddenly felt as if he had won the lottery. He hadn’t known much about Archaedas before coming to Uldaman, other than he was a Keeper empowered by the same Titan that empowered Neltharion. Getting him on their side would already be great, but if he was actually responsible for creating and maintaining the various Titan facilities then so many problems could be solved. Many of Azeroth’s future problems were caused by malfunctions in these facilities. The Old Gods breaking free from the prisons being the most urgent example.

There was even a possibility that Archaedas would be able to do something about the Dark Portal, which was never resolved in canon!

“My scans are complete. None of them show any sign of being corrupted by the Void,” Archaedas announced, turning his attention back to the group and pulling Krivax out of his gleeful thoughts. “Explain to me why you chose to awaken me from stasis. Specify the catastrophic event that you were previously alluding to.”

Once the Keeper was done scanning them, he seemed to instantly lose any hostility he had to the nerubian members of the expedition. Krivax was a bit surprised by how quickly Archaedas’ prejudice disappeared, but it made sense in retrospect. The Keepers and Watchers were essentially sapient magical machines and probably looked at the world in a much more single-minded and logical fashion. There were a lot of reasons why that could be detrimental, but it also meant that they wouldn’t hold on to grudges in the face of evidence.

Feeling reassured, Krivax immediately began recounting everything that he had previously told Ironaya about the state of the world. The Keeper was not happy in the slightest to hear about the Sundering, or what the kaldorei did to the Well of Eternity. Krivax couldn’t remember the specific lore surrounding the well's origin, but there was a good chance that it had something to do with the Keepers. Pretty much everything in Azeroth had been shaped by what the Titans and their servants had done in the world’s ancient history.

Archaedas was very disturbed and upset on hearing of Deathwing’s corruption and betrayal. Krivax thought that Archaedas probably felt that betrayal on a more personal level given that he was the one responsible for channeling Khaz'goroth’s power into Deathwing and empowering the corrupted Aspect.

The Keeper even had a similar reaction to Ironaya when he was told about Sargeras, which Brann quickly picked up on.

“Do either of you know a thing or two about this Sargeras fellow? The Burning Legion seems awfully set on stormin’ Azeroth,” said Brann, his keen eyes watching the two of them for any reaction.

Archaedas and Ironaya’s expressions both seemed to darken at the question. After several moments of silence, it was the Keeper who decided to answer. “Sargeras was a member of the Pantheon, although not one that we have ever met as he did not participate in the ordering of Azeroth. The Makers referred to him several times in their records. I find it difficult to believe that a member of the Pantheon would betray the rest, but all evidence seems to support this conclusion. There is no known force in the universe equal to the Makers. Yet we know that they are dead, and only a Titan would be capable of creating a force akin to the Burning Legion. In addition, sensors indicate that you believe your words to be the truth.”

Surprised at the Keeper’s words, Krivax stretched his magical senses in an attempt to find the truth spell surrounding them. A sense of caution grew within him as he failed to find anything, and he resolved to be careful with his words for the rest of the conversation.

The expedition wasn’t happy at all to hear that a Titan was responsible for creating the Burning Legion. Titan worship wasn’t widespread amongst the dwarves, but it wasn’t nonexistent and most held a sort of reverence toward the Pantheon. Krivax suspected that such sentiments would grow significantly in the near future.

Once everyone calmed down a bit, Krivax continued explaining things to Archaedas. After he finished explaining the Sundering and why they chose to wake him up, the Keeper decided that he wanted to verify their story further. After all, their story might not be necessarily accurate if they did not have full knowledge of the events.

“How’s he going to do that?” asked Trixie as the Keeper disappeared behind a door on the other side of the chamber.

“That is not information that you need to know,” Ironaya responded.

Unknown to the Watcher, Krivax already knew exactly how Archaedas would be verifying their story. The Discs of Norgannon was an artifact that the two of them had spirited away with them to Uldaman. Its primary purpose was to record everything that transpired in Azeroth and would be enough to get them up to speed. Krivax sincerely doubted that it actually recorded everything as that would be ridiculous, but it probably had all of the major events.

In the meantime, the expedition didn’t hesitate to pepper Ironaya with questions, which she patiently answered so long as the topic wasn’t too sensitive. When Archaedas eventually returned after nearly half an hour, his expression was far more solemn than when he had left.

“The mortals' claims are true,” Archaedas said to Ironaya once he drew close. “The Well of Eternity has imploded and caused catastrophic damage to Azeroth’s landmass and most of the Titan facilities across Azeroth. Reports indicate that the Titan-forged caretakers of Uldum have activated the facility’s illusory defense system. Attempts to contact Uldaz, Uldavek, and Uldir have all met with failures. Fortunately, sensor readings seem to indicate these facilities as being uncompromised.”

Uncompromised? They’re all very much compromised! Also, what the hell are Uldaz, Uldavek, Uldir? Krivax wondered incredulously. He really hoped that Azeroth didn’t have even more dangerous Titan facilities than the ones he knew about.

“Excuse me, but Azjol-Nerub has territory close to a facility called Ulduar, and we’re quite certain that it contains an Old God and is definitely compromised. Void energy has been gradually increasing across Northrend for generations,” Krivax said urgently. It was important that Archaedas understand exactly how screwed up everything was. “Also, what is the importance of Uldaz, Uldavek, and Uldir? If they’re anything like Ulduar, then we need to know.”

“Do you have evidence for your claim, mortal? You believe your words to be true, yet all sensory data seems to show otherwise,” said Archaedas. “Facilities dedicated to Old God containment were the most comprehensive of all installations and included several redundancies. I created several emergency systems designed to awaken me specifically in the event that these facilities were compromised.”

Fortunately for Krivax, he had prepared physical proof in advance that demonstrated that Yogg-Saron wasn’t completely contained. Azjol-Nerub had recently finalized a research agreement with Ironforge and Gnomeregan, and Krivax had quickly suggested that they study the effects of Saronite together. The two nations knew far more about magical metals than even the Kirin Tor or the Circle of Viziers after all. The Void-corrupted ore was the result of Yogg-Saron slowly breaking free of his prison, and could only be found in Northrend.

Krivax retrieved the Saronite sample from his spatial bag, which was contained in an enchanted lockbox designed to insulate Void energy, and carefully presented the substance to Archaedas after warning him. The last thing he wanted was to be smited after showing he was carrying Void corrupted material, after all. The Keeper seemed skeptical at first but agreed to examine the Saronite and compare it to records that they had of Yogg-Saron’s corruption. When it came back as a positive match, Archaedas’ expression grew grimmer than it had been since their conversation began.

“You are correct. This substance carries the corruption of Yogg-Saron, and implies that sensor readings of Old God containment facilities cannot be trusted. It seems likely that they have been subverted. Each of the facilities must be manually examined and their functions restored, as all life on Azeroth will be under threat if they were to escape,” said Archaedas, his expressions more lively than ever before.

“Then we must act as swiftly as we can,” Ironaya said with determination in her gaze.

“Wait just a minute. Are you trying to tell us that there are a whole bunch of facilities acting like bombs waiting to go off?” Brann asked in alarm.

Azjol-Nerub had shared a bit about their suspicions regarding Ulduar, but it still wasn’t a widely known issue, as people didn’t fully understand the magnitude of the threat.

“Correct. Uldaz, Uldavek, and Uldir are the facilities responsible for containing the Void entities known as N’zoth, C’thun, and G’huun respectively. Any single one of these beings would be capable of freeing the rest of their kind and conquering Azeroth, should they escape their prisons,” Archaedas explained, most of his attention on one of the floating orbs.

“Then you better get to fixing them so that doesn’t happen!” Trixie said emphatically, fear growing in her expression. “I saw what that Void monster did to Capital City. I don’t want to wake up one day to scary monsters and tentacles everywhere! I’m sure that there won’t be a ruler in the Eastern Kingdoms unwilling to help you out once they hear about this.”

“Your assistance is appreciated, but this matter is beyond you, mortals,” said Ironaya.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Records indicate that the mortals recently slew a C’thrax, one of the two that was responsible for killing Tyr,” said Archaedas, sounding as if he barely believed what he was saying himself.

Ironaya raised her eyebrows, visibly impressed. “Truly? How did they manage to accomplish such a feat?”

Archaedas went on to explain Uldaman’s records, probably the Discs of Norgannon, had recorded a C’thrax as being defeated near a mortal city. Krivax and Trixie went on to give more details about the event after Ironaya asked for them. Despite the fact that it was heavily injured and that the Alliance had the aid of the dragons, actually bringing it down was a great feat. Ironaya seemed surprised that the mortal races had managed to defeat the C’thrax at all. The two of them also seemed particularly appreciative that they slayed Tyr’s murderer and that Tyr’s Guard had stood vigil over the fallen Keeper’s tomb for millennia.

“Without the Forge of Wills, we lack the capacity to create new servants and there are few left within Uldaman. Cooperation with the mortals will be necessary to properly repair damaged facilities and ensure that the Old Gods remain contained,” Archaedas explained.

“I recommend instead that we seek to contact the Aspects. Despite one of their members being corrupted by the Old Gods, they are much more suited to assist us in this endeavor,” said Ironaya, disagreeing with the Keeper.

Although dealing with the Titan facilities was very important, the Watcher’s words remind Krivax that it wasn’t actually the primary reason that he had wanted to go to Uldaman. He didn’t want to get so caught up with dealing with the facilities, they forgot to address Deathwing at all.

“If you intend to contact the Aspects, that’s something that I could help with,” Krivax offered, drawing the attention of the two giant beings. “I actually serve as the lead diplomat for Azjol-Nerub and have regular contact with Alexstrasza. Also, I believe that you might want to talk to them about Deathwing. The Aspects mentioned that he had escaped to a place called Deepholm and that they were having difficulties getting there.”

“Accessing Deepholm would be prohibitively difficult under most scenarios. However, Uldum contains a portal to the elemental plane which can be used to access Deepholm,” Ironaya said thoughtfully before turning to Archaedas. “I recommend accepting the mortal’s offer. Facility repair is our primary duty, but a Void corrupted Aspect is an existential threat to Azeroth.”

Krivax was glad for Ironaya’s endorsement and expected the Keeper to agree. As Archaedas merely continued to study him with an inscrutable gaze, Krivax began to get the feeling that something was wrong. After several more moments of silent consideration, his fears were soon proven right.

“We will contact the Aspects, but we shall do so on our own. It should not be a difficult matter and I do not trust you sufficiently for this task,” said Archaedas, his voice carrying a sense of finality that made Krivax’s heart drop.

He thought that the Keeper had gotten over the whole aqir thing, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“I understand that you don’t trust me due to our heritage, but I swear to you that Azjol-Nerub has turned away from the Void,” said Krivax, hoping to change the Keeper’s mind.

“You misunderstand. I don’t trust you in particular. Not only due to your heritage but also due to your anomalous qualities,” said Archaedas, staring down at him with a suspicious gaze.

The expedition turned to him with confusion in their eyes. Several of them asked what the Keeper was talking about, but Krivax didn’t actually have any idea himself. Noticing their incomprehension, Archaedas decided to offer an explanation.

“Void corruption can be extremely subtle, and our most thorough scans to detect it involve searching for any anomalies with the subject’s body and soul. Although you show no signs of corruption, your soul shows signs of transplantation and is significantly older than your body,” said Archaedas, shocking Krivax to his core and terrifying him. “Strangely, there is no evidence of the magic responsible for this phenomenon. I have suffered from the deceptive nature of the Void before, and do not intend to receive any aid from you without an explanation for this discrepancy.”

Krivax had no idea what to say. He’d considered sharing his metaknowledge with people before but always found excuses not to do so. Now his secret had been discovered in a way that hadn’t planned for, and in front of several people that he barely even knew!

Krivax turned to offer Brann and Trixie whatever explanation he could come up with, but he was once again shocked when he discovered that the two of them were completely still and looking off into space with unblinking eyes. Krivax turned to the rest of the expedition and his guards, only to find that they were all frozen and slowly turning a dull shade of bronze. Archaedas and Ironaya both seemed unaffected by what was going on and were staring at a particular corner of the room.

Before he could fully understand the situation, Krivax's attention was suddenly drawn to a voice that he had only heard on a few occasions. “I apologize for the interruption, but Vizier Krivax was about to offer an explanation that I believe my siblings and I should be present for.”

In the corner that Archaedas and Ironaya were focused on, Nozdormu and the remaining uncorrupted Aspects appeared from thin air. Nozdormu merely looked quietly amused while Malygos and Alexstrasza were studying Krivax with odd expressions. Ysera had her eyes closed and most likely had half of her mind within the Emerald Dream, but Krivax could tell that even she was curious about what all of this was about.

“I told you that you could search for the one who sent the letter to Krasus after a few months, brother. I bet that you didn’t expect that they would also be the one to secure our access to Deepholm,” Nozdormu said to Malygos, who merely grunted in response.

Krivax froze at the Aspect of Time’s words. It had been so long since he had sent that letter to Krasus that he had been fully convinced that he had gotten away with it, or that Nozdormu never intended to confront him. The Bronze Dragonflight had never once intervened despite all of the changes that Krivax had made to the timeline, so he had begun to think that his transmigration had somehow obscured him from their vision.

It never occurred to Krivax that Nozdormu would just be waiting for a specific moment to confront him.

“I do hope you forgive our intrusion, Archaedas,” Nozdormu said to the Keeper. “But the situation being what it is, I figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. It is important to the fate of Azeroth that we all be here for this discussion.”

“You are forgiven, Aspect. I am quite curious to learn what prompted this,” said Archaedas, turning his gaze back to Krivax.

Stuck under the inquisitive gazes of several godlike beings, Krivax hadn’t felt this out of his depth since the day he had hatched from his egg and realized where he was. And much like that day, there was only a single thought going through his mind.

Fuck…

Chapter Text

Krivax felt like his brain must have stopped working from the shock because he remained silent for an awkwardly long time before coming up with a response. And when he did, it wasn’t exactly the height of diplomatic eloquence. “Uh… what’s going on here?”

“You understand what is happening perfectly well, Vizier Krivax,” said Nozdormu, his expression amused and indulgent as if he were talking to a particularly slow whelp. “I have already watched this conversation play out, but my siblings aren’t quite so fortunate.”

“We heard what the Keeper said about your soul, mortal, and we know that you’re the one who sent that letter to Krasus,” said Malygos, staring at Krivax with suspicion in his eyes. “You obviously know far more than someone like you should. Given that Nozdormu insisted on our presence for this conversation, I assume your strange knowledge is more comprehensive than what you placed in the letter. Explain how you know what you do and why your soul is older than your body.”

Krivax pushed his mind to the limits trying to think of a way out of this situation but kept reaching the same conclusions. Every single person in the room was stronger than him, was able to detect his lies, and would be unwilling to accept him holding back relevant information.

Fortunately for him, they at least seemed reasonable enough to hear him out rather than just taking the information forcefully. Krivax was under no illusions that he could prevent them from doing so if they decided to stop playing nice.

“Vizier Krivax, please take a deep breath and calm yourself,” Alexstrasza said soothingly, noticing his panic. “All we want is to understand how you know as much as you do. If you truly are the one who sent that letter to Krasus, then I owe you an immense debt of gratitude. I won’t allow you to suffer any undue harm.”

It didn’t escape Krivax’s notice that the Dragon Queen specified harm that was undue, but her words still helped calm him down regardless.

“That’s… complicated, and a bit of a long story,” said Krivax, speaking between deep breaths as he focused on calming his nerves.

“If you’d prefer, I could always just pull the information from your mind,” said Malygos. The half-mad dragon’s tone was completely flat, and Krivax couldn’t tell if his words were supposed to be a threat or a genuine offer.

Either way, Krivax very much didn’t want Malygos rummaging through his mind. Not only because of general privacy concerns, but Krivax wanted to avoid dealing with the whole ‘fictional world’ thing. Malygos was unpredictable enough on a good day without adding existential questions on the nature of reality to the mix.

“Well, mortal?” asked Malygos, scowling impatiently.

“Uh, no. Just… give me a moment to get my thoughts in order,” said Krivax.

He half expected to receive a sharp rebuke or an annoyed response, but Malygos merely huffed and kept his silence, much to Krivax’s relief. After several moments of contemplation, Krivax took a deep breath and just decided to stick as close to the truth as he could, addressing each problem as it came. There wasn’t much else that he could do, given the circumstances.

Maybe… this will turn out alright? Krivax thought to himself, trying to remain optimistic. There’s a lot that they could help with that I can’t do on my own.

“If you’ve heard what Keeper Archaedas said about my soul, then you can probably guess that this isn’t my first life,” said Krivax, deciding to just start at the beginning. “Are any of you familiar with the concept of reincarnation?”

“We are. I’ve never experienced it myself, but there are several different methods to reincarnate oneself with magic,” said Alexstrasza, her expression becoming pointedly neutral. “Were you a necromancer prior to your reincarnation? Perhaps a shaman?”

“No traces of Death magic were detected in the anomaly’s soul,” said Archaedas, his gravelly voice echoing throughout the room.

“No. I was just a regular human who had never used magic in his life. I remember dying and then waking up in an egg,” said Krivax, speaking slowly and he chose each word carefully. “Shortly after I hatched and received my new name, I realized that I had a… vast amount of information about the future timeline of this world. I didn’t like what I saw, so I did my best to change things and… here we are.”

Krivax doubted that the Aspects would fail to notice that he was hiding something, but he felt it was still worth it to try. The Aspects traded thoughtful glances with each other… or Malygos and Alexstrasza did at least. Ysera still had her eyes closed and seemed as if she was barely present, while Nozdormu already knew how this conversation would play out and was just watching patiently.

“That sounds like it must have been a very… disorientating experience. Do you know who or what did this to you?” Alexstrasza asked compassionately.

“I don’t,” Krivax said honestly. He wished that he did, but figuring out the circumstances of his reincarnation was well beyond his ability.

Krivax turned his attention to the Aspect of Magic and felt himself grow tense once he noticed the mad dragon studying him with blatant suspicion in his eyes. His fears were validated a few moments later when Malygos spoke. “You’re hiding something, mortal. Cease wasting our time and tell us everything that you know before I lose my patience.”

“It’s… I’m not hiding anything maliciously. It’s just really hard to explain,” Krivax said hesitantly. “I was human in my last life, but… not one of this world.”

Krivax went on to explain his extradimensional origins while leaving out the matter of this world being a fictional one back on Earth. They were marginally more surprised than when he talked about the whole reincarnation thing, but everyone was already aware that this world wasn’t the only one. Still, it was rather strange even to them. Malygos, Nozdormu, and Archaedas asked plenty of questions surrounding his old world, and Krivax did his best to answer them. It soon became clear to Krivax that they were all incredibly interested in discovering the nature of whatever power sent him to this world. The things that he knew surpassed even what Nozdormu could foresee, as his vision only extended to the prophesized Hour of Twilight.

Krivax had personally never given it that much thought. He didn’t see much point in wondering about the nature of the multiverse or the actions of forces beyond his comprehension.

Obviously, they all didn’t see it the same way and wanted to make sure that there wasn’t some godlike entity using Krivax as a tool to manipulate Azeroth. A lot of time was spent on that topic, but there really wasn’t any evidence one way or another, so they were forced to move on.

Everyone also seemed quite interested in the differences between Earth and Azeroth, such as their technology, the lack of magic, and humans being the only sapient race. The Aspects seemed to consider it a good explanation for why Krivax was so strange by Azerothian standards.

The conversation eventually progressed once it became clear his old world wasn’t influenced by any power that they were aware of. Krivax felt a great deal of relief when Alexstrasza proposed they move on to talking about his actual knowledge of Azeroth’s timeline, and he thought for a moment that he was actually going to get away with not revealing the true nature of his old world.

He shouldn’t have underestimated the perceptiveness of creatures that had lived longer than he could fathom.

“And is that all, mortal? Are you hiding anything further?” asked Malygos, studying Krivax carefully.

Krivax knew he couldn’t deny it, so he decided to stick close to the truth. “Nothing relevant to the fate or safety of Azeroth. I understand how important this is, but there are some details about my previous life that I’d like to keep private.”

Krivax genuinely felt that the whole ‘fictional world’ thing didn’t matter. He’d always been the kind of person to go with the flow and didn’t care much about existential questions. However, there was no telling how the crazy dragon would react, so he’d just prefer to avoid it entirely if possible. Also, a part of him wanted to test how the Aspects would react to even a small amount of defiance. Krivax would tell them whatever they wanted if they pushed him, but at least he would know what kind of people he was dealing with.

“And you think you’re qualified to know what is and isn’t relevant to the safety of Azeroth?” said Malygos, sneering contemptuously. “Allow me to make your situation clear since you seem to have problems understanding. You will tell us what you know without omission, or I will take the information directly from your mind.”

“Your threats aren’t helping anyone, Malygos. The truth spell has shown that Vizier Krivax genuinely believes it to be irrelevant to the fate of Azeroth. He’s done much for us all, and we can afford to show him some courtesy,” said Alexstrasza, chastising her sibling.

Krivax was relieved to see Nozdormu and Ysera both nod in agreement. Archaedas was a bit harder to convince, but the Keeper relented when Krivax swore that it was nothing that could impact his duties. Malygos was the only one who wanted to force Krivax to tell them everything.

“Courtesy? I’m showing plenty of courtesy by being as patient as I am,” said Malygos, glancing at the Dragon Queen. “Do you all truly believe that we can trust a mortal with such important knowledge? To judge what among that knowledge is relevant?”

When Krivax looked back on this moment in the future, he would blame his reaction on many things. The Aspects of Magic’s constant threats, the stress that he’d accumulated since arriving in Azeroth, and being called ‘untrustworthy’ by one of the least trustworthy people in the room.

“I’ve done nothing but do my best to use this knowledge responsibly,” said Krivax, his words coming out in an angry chittering hiss as he glared at Malygos. “You have no idea how much worse things would have been without my intervention. I refuse to be lectured about trustworthiness by someone wh—”

Krivax angrily forced his mandibles shut as he realized that he let his emotions get the better of him. He’d always prided himself on being able to control himself, but his current situation was sending his emotions spiraling. Unfortunately, Malygos didn’t seem particularly interested in letting the matter rest.

“Don’t stop now, mortal. Tell me what it is that makes me so untrustworthy,” said Malygos, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t think that I haven’t noticed how you look at me. Tell me what great crime I’m destined to commit.”

“I… don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Krivax, feeling his anger leave him.

“Malygos, perhaps the mortal is right. If destiny has already been changed, then it may be better to leave certain matters unsaid,” said Alexstrasza, placing a concerned hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“I’ve never been interested in ignorance. Speak, mortal. Tell me what fate you believe would have awaited me.”

Krivax could tell that Malygos had no intention of letting this go. He didn’t care very much about sparing the cruel dragon’s feelings, but he was concerned about how Malygos would react. Krivax only hoped that the other dragon Aspects would rein him in.

“Several years into the future, you decide to… focus your attention on your role as the guardian of magic. You do this by attempting to redirect the leylines of the world to the Nexus and siphon all magic away from the mortal races. This event causes widespread damage throughout the world and triggers a conflict called the Nexus War. You were defeated and killed by a coalition of mortals and the Red Dragonflight.”

The room was completely silent after Krivax was done speaking. The two titan-forged giants and Nozdormu barely had any reaction at all, while Alexstrasza looked horrified and Ysera seemed faintly surprised. Malygos himself was completely expressionless as he glanced at Nozdormu for confirmation, only to fall into thoughtful silence when he received a nod in return.

When Malygos’ reaction finally came, it wasn’t at all what Krivax was expecting. “I see. I was expecting worse.”

Krivax was so startled that he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Is that really all you have to say?”

“Do you expect me to act like I’m surprised?” Malygos asked, rolling his eyes. “That sounds exactly like something that I would do. The only unexpected detail is that Alexstrasza managed to put me down before I did more damage. I didn’t think she had it in her.”

“I dearly hope I’m never forced to make such a decision,” said Alexstrasza. Her eyes were conflicted as she looked at her sibling, and her voice was quiet with grief. “Malygos, do you truly care so little about your death that you barely find it worth mentioning? I understand how difficult matters have been for you, but Sindragosa wouldn’t want this for you. She would want for you to find happiness, not to be so… self-destructive in your grief.”

“Sindragosa is dead, at the hands of Neltharion. She isn’t here to tell anyone what she would have wanted,” said Malygos, practically hissing out the words as he glared at Alexstrasza and his skin crackled with magic. “When are you going to learn that there is no happy future waiting for any of us, sister?! Neltharion was wrong about many things, but he was completely correct to say that the Titans’ blessing doomed us all to horrible ends. There isn’t a single thing that this mortal has said about my future that surprised me.”

“You dare to besmirch the Makers in my presence?” Archaedas boomed out with more emotion than Krivax had ever heard from him. The very earth beneath them began to shake and the air grew heavy with power, but Malygos wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, you over-glorified golem! I have no interest in listening to the words of a single-minded construct that only cares for the few duties its creators gave it,” Malygos said contemptuously to the Keeper before turning his attention back to Krivax. “Tell me, mortal. Am I wrong? Is there a happy fate waiting for the rest of my siblings?”

Krivax glanced nervously at Nozdormu, who was locked in a conflict with his evil time-traveling future self and was passively walking toward that destiny. He then looked at Ysera, who dedicated everything to fighting the Emerald Nightmare and barely paid any attention to the physical world. In the original timeline, she would become corrupted and end up being killed by her closest allies. The answer must have been obvious from his expression because the madness in Malygos’ eyes only grew and the dragon began quietly chuckling and muttering to himself. The magic around him grew turbulent as he dissociated from reality, and Krivax felt as if he was standing in the same room as a mana bomb.

At that moment, Krivax looked around the room and suddenly understood how Azeroth had gotten to such a bad state despite having so many powerful protectors. They were all just so… incredibly dysfunctional. It was obvious to Krivax that despite what Malygos might claim, he was extremely bothered by what he had heard.

Even while Malygos was laughing madly to himself, Nozdormu and Ysera both looked distant from what was happening. The former looked as if he was watching an interesting television show that he’d seen many times before while the latter seemed barely present. Archaedas and Ironaya looked as if they didn’t understand what they were seeing at all.

Alexstrasza was the only one trying to actually talk to Malygos and pull him back to reality, but her efforts weren’t having much of a result. Krivax felt like he should say something, but he didn’t think a motivational speech from someone like himself would be particularly helpful. Still, it was probably better to say something rather than just sit back and watch while the crazy dragon lost his mind.

“You’re right that the future isn’t kind to you or your siblings, but that can be changed. Alexstrasza should have been captured by the Horde, yet we successfully prevented that from happening,” said Krivax, hoping a more logical argument would get through to Malygos. The mad dragon turned his gaze in Krivax’s direction, but his eyes were glassy as if he barely understood where he was. “Your fate is easy to avoid, so long as you know about it. I can even tell you where Sindragosa’s body is so that you can give her a proper burial.”

“Sindragosa? I… wasn’t able to find her. The magic of the Dragon Soul was too strong. It lingered. Made scrying for her impossible. I could have found another way, but I… stayed in my lair for too long,” said Malygos, his voice growing progressively more lucid as he pulled himself out of his haze. “You know where her body is, mortal?”

“Yes. It’s on Northrend. In the region of Icecrown,” said Krivax, grateful that Sindragosa was an important enough character for this information to stick with him.

The room was tense and silent as Malygos processed this information. Krivax watched him cautiously, unsure of how he would react. After a few moments, the madness in the Aspect of Magic’s eyes began to fade as he regained some of his composure. His voice was calmer, though quiet and tinted with sadness. “Tell us about the future, mortal. Keep your little secrets. If you’re wrong and whatever you’re hiding turns out to be vital to Azeroth’s survival, then I suppose that is just what this world deserves.”

Krivax let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if Malygos had truly changed his mind or if he just stopped caring, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The Aspect of Magic carelessly cast a spell on him that enhanced his memory recall, and Krivax resolved to share all of his metaknowledge for the first time.

We’re going to be here for a while, Krivax mused to himself.

Deciding the best place to start was the beginning, Krivax started by telling everyone how the Second War would have proceeded without his intervention. Alexstrasza had already known what fate would have awaited her, but he could tell that hearing the… gruesome details wasn’t pleasant for her, or anyone for that matter. The Dragon Queen was more than a little grateful for being spared such a fate.

Krivax found himself speaking for several hours as he meticulously shared everything of importance that he knew.

The Third War and the Burning Legion’s second invasion. The Lich King, the plague of undeath, and the destruction of Lordaeron, Quel’thalas, and Azjol-Nerub.

The Old Gods and their slow escape from their prisons along with the Qiraji swarm and other Void entities like Xal’atah. The creeping corruption of the Emerald Dream and the forces behind it. Deathwing’s resurgence from Deepholm and his near destruction of the world, along with the Elemental Lords. Queen Azshara, her underwater naga empire, and her relationship with N’zoth.

The hidden continent of Pandaria and the numerous threats hiding within, such as Manti’vess and the Sha. The various conflicts between the Horde and the Alliance, as well as the Burning Legion’s third invasion of Azeroth through a portal created in the Tomb of Sargeras by an alternate timeline Gul’dan.

“Basically, the Burning Legion and the Old Gods take turns creating various crises for Azeroth over the next several decades,” said Krivax, feeling utterly exhausted when he was done speaking. Even leaving out the more inconsequential details that the immortals didn’t care about, there were still too many things that needed to be addressed.

“That is… much more than I expected,” said Alexstrasza, sounding overwhelmed as she echoed his thoughts. “I’m not quite sure where to start.”

“The Makers, are you certain that they are alive?” Archaedas asked, not for the first time.

There had been a variety of reactions while Krivax was sharing his metaknowledge, but the Keeper’s was probably the most intense when he learned that the Titans were still alive. When Sargeras killed the rest of the Titans, the Keepers had felt an influx of power and fragmented memories wash over them. To know that their spirits still existed in some form was an immense relief to them, and Krivax could practically see the construct become more alive at the news.

“I am. I’m not sure of the exact details, but I saw the Titans sitting at the Seat of the Pantheon and pulling Sargeras away from Azeroth moments after he skewered the world with his sword,” Krivax confirmed. He wished that he knew more specific details, but he had only been paying intermittent attention to Warcraft when that lore was being released.

“Then I know what must be done. Azeroth’s facilities must be repaired, the Old God threat must be contained, and forces capable of facing the Burning Legion must be prepared,” said Archaedas, his voice filled with determination and a sense of renewed purpose. Ironaya remained silent, but she obviously shared the opinion of her leader.

“That’s a lovely declaration, but not one that we are in any way prepared to fulfill,” Malygos said thoughtfully, his earlier apathy fading somewhat as he contemplated the challenges presented to him.

“What do you mean? You’re probably the most powerful beings on Azeroth, I feel like you should be able to solve pretty much anything given a prior warning,” said Krivax. The only good part of this whole situation was being able to hand off all of these problems to the Aspects, and he didn’t want to hear that they couldn’t help.

“There are several matters that we can solve in a relatively straightforward manner, such as finally killing that vermin Neltharion, slaying the trolls attempting to summon Hakkar, and hunting down the creature responsible for the Emerald Nightmare,” Malygos explained.

“I will not rest until I have personally ended Xavius’ life and felt his soul leave this world,” said Ysera. The normally reserved Aspect was practically shaking with fury over everything that Krivax had told her. “I will also need to speak with Tyrande about Fandral and Illidan.”

The Emerald Dream was a verdant dimension filled with nature that resembled what the world would look like if intelligent beings had never altered its surface, and was connected to all natural life on Azeroth. The Emerald Nightmare was how druids referred to the Old God’s corruption of that realm, which would be accelerated by a former highborne named Xavius.

There was a lot of complicated history involved in the matter, but it was reasonable to assume that Ysera probably hated Xavius more than anyone else in the world right now.

“I’m sure you will, sister. But there are still several threats that the Dragonflights cannot face on their own. Keeper, if we were to muster the full might of every Aspect as well as our flights and lay siege to Ulduar, what do you estimate our chances of success would be?” Malygos asked.

“Such estimations are difficult. We do not know how thoroughly Ulduar has been corrupted nor what steps Loken has taken to consolidate his power. However, your chances of success would be grim,” Archaedas said after a moment of thought. “Ulduar was the primary base of operations for the Keepers and is more fortified than any other facility on Azeroth. In addition, it is likely that they have prepared specifically for an attack by the Aspects.”

“So a direct assault is a very bad idea,” Krivax summed up grimly. “But what about Ahn’Qiraj? In my vision, the Alliance and Horde primarily only had to worry about the Qiraji. I believe that four Aspects and all of your Dragonflights should be able to deal with a kingdom that’s probably only as strong as Azjol-Nerub.”

“You’re correct. We likely could launch an assault on Ahn’Qiraj, secure the facility around the Old God, and allow Archaedas to repair it, but what then?” asked Malygos, uncharacteristically patient as he explained the situation to Krivax. “The Qiraji have almost certainly prepared to fight against dragons after losing their previous war. We would suffer significant casualties while subduing the escaping Old God and would be far less able to assist in the next conflict.”

Krivax considered the situation and realized where he had gone wrong with his assumptions. In Warcraft, most of these crises were resolved by the players of the game, who were represented in the lore as ‘champions’ of the Horde and Alliance. It was assumed that these champions were some of the most powerful individuals in Azeroth yet Krivax had never seen any evidence that these so-called champions actually existed.

If the Dragonflights actually attempted to handle everything that the champions dealt with in the lore, then they would quickly run into real problems like suffering increasingly severe attrition. This would make it harder for them to do their usual duties and couldn’t really be hand waved away like it was in the game. It was probably the primary reason why the Qiraji had been sealed away instead of being wiped out in the first place.

“The Lich King is problematic as well,” Alexstrasza said reluctantly. “We could likely destroy them fairly easily if they were found before they could build their forces, but Kil’jaeden will likely plan around that. Azshara is a significant problem as well.”

“She was your equal even during the War of the Ancients, brother. I imagine she would be much more powerful now after giving herself over to N’zoth,” said Nozdormu, smirking cheekily at Malygos.

The Aspect of Magic merely glared at his sibling before turning back to Krivax. “Not only that, but you have admitted that your knowledge has proven to be inaccurate at times, correct?”

“That is correct,” Krivax readily admitted. There were plenty of things in Warcraft that were either nonsensical or just didn’t translate accurately when they became reality.

Malygos nodded and asked Krivax a question that he had no idea how to answer. “Answer me this, little prophet. If the Burning Legion is hunting the Draenei faction on Draenor, then why have they not already fully conquered that world? They have already had more than enough opportunities to invade that world with their endless armies, yet you say that the Burning Legion won’t do so until after this Ner’zhul destroys their world. Why?”

Krivax considered the question and had no good answer. Gul’dan and the Horde had complete free reign over Draenor and would have had all the time in the world to open up however many portals they needed for the Burning Legion.

“I would assume that they were trying to hide their direct involvement, so they could use the Horde against Azeroth without attracting the attention of people like you,” Krivax said hesitantly, putting forward the only explanation that he could think of.

“That seems to match my analysis of Gul'dan's memories,” said Malygos, nodding in agreement. “That being the case, do you believe Kil'jaeden will truly just leave Draenor alone? Or would he have any number of contingency plans and use demons specializing in infiltration to usher in an invasion whenever he pleased? You recommended during your recounting that we should rescue the innocents of Draenor and perhaps save that world from its fate, but one of us traveling there would be a monumental risk.”

“My brother is wise and sadly correct in this matter. I have much experience with dealing with future knowledge, and it is always a mistake to underestimate our enemy’s ability to plan and adapt,” said Nozdormu.

Krivax found it incredibly frustrating to hear about potential traps or dangers that weren’t included in his metaknowledge. Azeroth was already dangerous enough without adding even more problems onto it.

“Alright, I understand. You’ve detailed all of the challenges and difficulties, but I think the solution to this is obvious. All of you need to work far more closely with the mortal races,” said Krivax, desperately hoping the Aspects and the Keeper would agree with him. “In my vision, it was the mortal nations who rose up to defend Azeroth. Think of how much more powerful they could be if you all put effort into empowering them.”

The mages of Dalaran would be far more effective in their defense of Azeroth and policing of dark magic use if they were taught magic by the Blue Dragonflight. In the original timeline, the Bronze Dragonflight created an organization called the Timewalkers that trained mortals in their magic, and there was no reason not to start that early. The Green Dragonflight already taught druidism to the Kaldorei, but they barely interacted at all with the other races of Azeroth. The Red Dragonflight was already the most involved in mortal affairs, but they didn’t do anything to empower mortals beyond recruiting a few of them as dragonsworn.

Not just the dragons either. Krivax struggled to even imagine what amazing things could be created if Archaedas worked with Gnomeregan and Ironforge to advance their technology, to say nothing of the other Keepers if they were ever freed from the control of the Old Gods. Azeroth was a world that faced yearly crises, and Krivax had every intention of pushing for them to seize every possible advantage that they could.

“Mortals with power very rarely result in anything good,” said Malygos, scowling at the suggestion.

“I would not dismiss our young friend's advice out of hand, brother,” said Alexstrasza. “If Azeroth is truly going to face so many challenges in the future, it may be worth the risk. The Dragonflights cannot possibly defend this world alone.”

“My Flight will be too busy with the Emerald Nightmare and hunting down Xavius to train a new generation of druids… but that might change in the future,” Ysera said reluctantly.

“I would only be willing to teach time magic to a small number of mortals for now,” said Nozdormu. “I feel like it may cause more problems than it solves, but it seems like an endeavor worth attempting.”

Even if it was the obvious choice, the Dragonflights had always shied away from involving themselves with mortals. Krivax was just glad that they were even giving it any consideration.

“I have more important matters to attend to than teaching magic to mortals… but I will not disallow my Flight from doing so if they so choose,” said Malygos, his expression as if he had just smelt something disgusting.

Krivax turned his attention to Archaedas, who remained silent for several moments longer before he finally spoke. “I am hesitant to seek the aid of those afflicted with the Curse of Flesh, but you claim that Prime Designate Odyn has done so already. The number of servants remaining in Uldaman is insufficient to maintain Azeroth’s facilities and develop a force sufficient to aid the Makers. Cooperating with the mortals seems like an unfortunate necessity.”

Well, it wasn’t the enthusiastic agreement that Krivax was hoping for, but it would have to be enough.

For the next hour, the conversation revolved around their plans to face Azeroth’s numerous threats. The general consensus was that they would seek to amass an overwhelming force before addressing each issue one by one. That way the attrition that the forces of Azeroth would suffer could be kept to a minimum.

The first threat to be dealt with would obviously be Deathwing. Archaedas made clear that the fastest method of accessing Deepholm was through the portal in Uldum. It would also be possible if he had the Hammer of Khaz’gorath, a powerful artifact left to him by the Pantheon, but finding it would take some time. Krivax knew that it was somewhere with the tauren on the Broken Isles, but he couldn’t remember the exact details.

Once Deathwing was dealt with, they would need to come up with a plan to address the Draenor situation and then Ahn’Qiraj would become the center of their attention. There was little point thinking of plans much further out into the future, as everything else would depend heavily on their circumstances.

Just as they were about to finish and Krivax thought he was in the clear, he suddenly noticed that the Keeper was staring intensely at him … and his expression was not friendly.

“What is to be done about the anomaly?” asked Archaedas, the implication of his words unmistakable. “The secrets of the Makers were not meant to be known by mortals. We also know nothing about the forces that sent him here.”

Krivax felt his blood go cold as he looked into the Keeper’s eyes. He knew then that Archaedas wouldn’t feel a single shred of remorse if he decided to kill him. The secret that he was referring to was in regard to the fact that Azeroth possessed a nascent soul that would one day develop into a Titan. This was the reason that the Pantheon, the forces of the Void, and the Burning Legion were all extremely interested in Azeroth specifically.

“When dealing with an entity capable of doing what they did to Vizier Krivax, it is best to simply act as if it doesn’t exist,” Nozdormu said calmly. “If any actions we commit or don’t commit could further its unknown goals, then why allow it to affect our decisions in the first place? Besides, I don’t see this timeline being harmed by allowing Vizier Krivax to continue on his current path.”

“I find myself in agreement with my brother,” said Malygos as he sneered at the Keeper. “Besides, it seems that the ‘secrets of the Makers’ are not meant to be known by even their most powerful servants. Had my alternate self known about Azeroth’s soul, I doubt he would have made the decisions that he did. I don’t feel particularly inclined to concern myself about their secrets.”

“The mortal has helped my Flight by pointing us toward threats we would not have seen until they were too late. He has my favor,” said Ysera.

“The power you wield was gifted to you by the Makers, yet you would forsake their interests so shamelessly?” Archaedas asked with growing anger.

“If the Makers wish to take back their ‘gift,’ then they are welcome to do so,” Malygos responded spitefully.

“I understand your concerns, Keeper Archaedas, but I think my siblings and I are all in agreement. Vizier Krivax has done much for Azeroth and me in particular. We will not repay this debt with treachery,” said Alexstrasza, her voice carrying a sense of finality. Krivax slumped in relief at the Dragon Queen’s words, reassured that she intended to protect him. The protection of the Aspects and Nozdormu’s claim that he was beneficial to the timeline seemed to be enough for Archaedas. “In fact, this debt was one that I intended to repay later, but now seems like as good of a time as any.”

Krivax was mildly confused as the Dragon Queen walked across the chamber toward him. “Uh, how do you intend to do that?”

Alexstrasza smiled at him gently as she stopped a few feet in front of him. “Vizier Krivax, you saved me from a fate worse than death. It is thanks to you that I was not captured by the Horde and turned into a broodmare. It is thanks to you that I was not forced to watch as countless of my children were killed in front of me, or compelled against their nature to attack innocent mortals. It is thanks to you that Rostrasz and Elorasz are still alive. Throughout your entire time on Azeroth, you have worked to make this world a better place and have succeeded in doing so. For all of this, I would like to offer you a boon that I have only given to a few other mortals over the millennia.”

Krivax watched in shock and awe as Alexstrasza outstretched her hand and breathed out a stream of vermillion fire that swirled around her palm and began to rapidly coalesce. He stared with wonder at a luminescent sphere of energy that held more power than almost anything he had felt in his life.

“This is a rather small fragment of my power, but your body could not handle much more than this. If you pledge to continue acting in the interests of Life on Azeroth, then it is yours. The challenges ahead will be significant, and I believe you could do much good with it,” said Alexstrasza, smiling encouragingly as she offered Krivax power that a lot of people would kill for.

Krivax wanted it badly. Being Azjol-Nerub’s lead diplomat offered him a lot of influence, but so many options would open up to him if he had more personal power. Despite this, Krivax didn’t allow greed to overpower his rationality and decided to ask a few questions. “All I have to do is continue acting in the interest of Azeroth? This won’t make me your servant or anything, right?”

“It would be a poor way of showing my gratitude if it bound you to my service. So long as you aren’t using this power for evil ends, it is yours to do as you please.”

That was a good enough answer for Krivax. He didn’t want to risk his position in Azjol-Nerub, but the High King wouldn’t fault him for this power if it didn’t divide his loyalties. Krivax would need to speak with Malygos about the story that he intended to implant in the expedition's minds to explain the matter, but that was a small matter.

“Will it turn me into some kind of dragon-spider person?” Krivax asked, barely stopping himself from reaching out the sphere outright. The dragonspawn and drakonids were both humanoid races of dragon people who were created from mortals, so he knew it was possible. He would almost certainly accept the power even if it did, but Krivax wanted to have some kind of warning first.

“It will almost certainly have some effect on your physiology, but likely nothing so dramatic,” said Alexstrasza, seemingly amused by his question. “Your carapace might change colors or you could grow a few claws, but you’re unlikely to grow wings and a tail. I cannot say for certain as the effect of draconic magic on the descendants of the Aqir has never been studied.”

Krivax hoped that it wouldn’t be too drastic. He’d gotten used to being a Vizier and didn’t want to deal with a significantly changed body again. Plus every Queen in Azjol-Nerub would want to study him if he turned into a spider-dragon.

Still, Krivax’s answer was one that came without hesitation. “I accept.”

“Excellent,” said Alexstrasza, stretching out her hand as she presented the sphere to him. “Then I give to you a fragment of my power, Vizier Krivax. May it serve you well and make clear my favor to all who see it.”

Krivax’s hand shook with anticipation as he reached out to the Dragon Queen’s offered gift. As soon as he made contact with the sphere, Krivax was blinded to everything aside from the seemingly limitless surge of power flowing through his body. He could feel the Aspect of Life’s power settling deep within him and already begin affecting his body.

At that moment, he knew that his life would be changed forever.

Chapter Text

Orgrim found it a strange experience to know with certainty that he wouldn’t live to see another day. That he wouldn’t breathe another breath, feel the warmth of the sun on his face, or defeat another enemy in combat. His death wouldn’t come in glorious combat, but would instead be delivered by the cold, honorless hands of an executioner.

As he sat in front of a desk with parchment and one of the humans' strange writing utensils in hand, the once proud Warchief couldn’t help but wonder where everything had gone wrong. It was easy and comforting to blame his people’s fate on Gul’dan and his foul magic, but isolation had forced Orgrim to be… introspective. Gul’dan and his warlocks may have led them to their corruption, but his people had chosen to walk down that path themselves.

Everything had seemed hopeless once Draenor’s elements had abandoned them and their world was torn apart by calamities. Disease had caused orc men, women, and children to rot away in front of their eyes while the land itself seemed to reject them. The clans had been led to believe that the draenei were the ones responsible for this, and they had united in their thirst for vengeance.

It was only recently that he had learned that it was all a lie…

One of his captors had informed him that Gul’dan had been killed and his mind ripped apart for all the information it held. When they told him the truth of what had happened, that Gul’dan was the one to corrupt the elements and doom Draenor, Orgrim had first believed it was a lie meant only to hurt him. He still believed their intent was to make him suffer by making his failures clear, but he now believed their words to be the truth. It made far more sense than what the Shadow Council had told the chieftains.

And if their words were the truth… then his people had truly lost all honor. Their ancestors would look down on them with shame for generations and Orgrim had done nothing but lead them further into dishonor. For generations, a prophecy had been passed down through his bloodline about their namesake relic, the Doomhammer.

Through blood the weapon shall pass, as surely as night begets day. Until the elements cry unheard, and pride turns to unbridled rage. The last of the line shall deliver salvation and doom upon his kind. Honor will be undone and all will be lost, before it is found again. A stranger will raise the hammer high, and with it justice shall reign.

It was only after he had been captured and taken to his cell that Orgrim realized the prophecy had been referring to him. He would be the last of his line. He was the one who had delivered doom upon his kind. He would go down in history as a failure who led the orcs to their darkest moment.

The prophecy spoke of a stranger who would take up the Doomhammer and help his people find justice and honor once again, but Orgrim wouldn’t be alive to see it. His weapon had been taken by that damned dragon and its fate was completely outside of his control. Instead, the only thing Orgrim could do was think about his choices and write down his thoughts in Orcish for the next generation. He had no doubt the Alliance had given him the chance to write to his people with the intention of twisting his words and using them for their own gain, but Orgrim couldn’t resist the temptation to record his true thoughts and regrets.

He’d already finished writing down everything he intended to over the past few months and was now just looking over it again.

“Orc! You’ve got a visitor! Someone wants to talk to you before your head gets lopped off!”

Orgrim was pulled from his thoughts by the rough words of one of the human guards. He’d received many visits from the Alliance, so this wasn’t a surprise to him. Orgrim stood from his seat and made his way over to the arcane barrier separating his cell from the rest of the world and waited for them to arrive.

When the boy-king of the first human kingdom the Horde had destroyed showed himself alongside Anduin Lothar, Orgrim let out a mirthless chuckle.

“I’ve been expecting to see you for months, yet you never came. I should have known that you would only show yourself on the day of my execution,” Orgrim said bitterly. “Are you here to gloat over your victory, or perhaps you want one last chance to break my spirit?”

He couldn’t imagine the boy-king visiting him for any other reason, given that the Alliance mages had long since pulled all the information they wanted from his mind. He was only glad that he never learned where exactly the Frostwolf Clan had settled when they left the Horde.

Contrary to his expectations, the two humans remained silent as they studied him with inscrutable expressions.

“Well? Do you have something to say, humans?” Orgrim asked, annoyed by their silence.

When the boy-king finally spoke, his voice was far calmer than Orgrim would have expected. “I thought you would be a lot more… intimidating. I was expecting to find a monster, but you remind me more of a pathetic animal just waiting to die.”

Orgrim roared and smashed his fist against the barrier, the force of his anger causing the magic to flicker. He was annoyed when neither of the humans flinched at his outburst. “Would you say the same if this barrier wasn’t separating us, boy?!”

“I would. I’ve seen that hopeless expression on your face far too many times already from countless others,” said the boy-king, his eyes wiser than his years. “I’ve seen it on the soldiers sent out to war. I’ve seen it on the faces of my subjects after they were forced to flee their homes. I’ve seen it in the mirror after the only orc my father trusted betrayed him and carved out his heart in front of me. I know what hopelessness looks like and you are no better off than the rest of us, orc.”

Orgrim wanted to snarl and rage at the boy-king, but he couldn’t muster the will. The fire inside him had long since been extinguished by his imprisonment.

“What do you want?” Orgrim asked, his voice completely void of emotion.

“I wanted to look into the eyes of the monster responsible for the destruction of Stormwind and ask him why he did what he did,” said the boy-king, his voice shaking with anger. “We could have had peace if you had just been willing to listen to my father’s pleas. We could have cooperated and found a way to help your people, but instead, you chose to wage a pointless war! Why?!”

The boy-king was yelling by the time he was done speaking while Lothar stood by his side silently, glaring at Orgrim with hatred in his eyes.

“You don’t understand what it means to be an orc. None of you do,” Orgrim said after a few moments of silence. “To be an orc means to struggle against a world doing everything it can to destroy you. To be an orc means to fight for every breath, every morsel of food, and every drop of water. You humans don’t know what it is like to struggle to survive every second of every day… and that was before our world began to die. Your father could have offered us everything we ever wanted, and we wouldn’t have accepted it unless we paid for it in blood and tears.”

Orgrim had come to learn that Azeroth was a world with just as many dangers as Draenor, but life on this world was surprisingly kind to its weaker inhabitants. On Draenor, there was no room to tolerate weakness, no room for negotiations, and certainly no room to indulge in mercy. The Horde had been born out of desperation and a desire for survival, and it had forged them into a force capable of conquering worlds.

“I heard that you were one of the few orcs who didn’t drink from the demon’s blood,” said Lothar, speaking for the first time since the humans arrived. “Unlike the rest of your kin, you don’t have even a paltry excuse for your actions. You could have chosen to lead your people to a brighter future, but you didn’t. That is nobody's failure but your own, Orgrim Doomhammer.”

Orgrim scoffed at the human's words. “If you truly believe that I could have forced the Horde to accept peace, then you understand us even less than I thought. Even before the Horde was corrupted by Gul’dan’s dark magic, we had already ravaged our world and either slain or enslaved its inhabitants. War was our inescapable fate from the moment that the Dark Portal was opened.”

It was a bitter conclusion to accept, but it was one that Orgrim had reached after months of isolation and introspection. Peace was never a possibility, and he very much doubted that the Horde would be able to ever integrate into this world. They simply weren’t made for it.

“I don’t believe you,” said Lothar, his voice firm and unwavering. “We learned from Gul’dan’s memories that Garona was being controlled by magic when she murdered King Llane. Until that moment, I came to view her as a friend and saw with my own eyes that orcs were capable of more than just violence and destruction. There was a chance for peace, but you chose not to take it.”

Orgrim had nearly forgotten about Gul’dan’s pet assassin. He had given her over to a veteran warrior by the name of Eitrigg and hadn’t thought of her since. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that Gul’dan had been controlling her with magic, but the human was misguided if he thought she represented orcs.

“Garona was nothing more than a half-orc pet of Gul’dan. True orcs will always return to their roots, and you’re hopelessly naive if you believe otherwise,” Orgrim said derisively. The Alliance might one day succeed in pacifying his people by placing them in camps and attempting to indoctrinate them, but it would be useless. Unless they were led by someone who truly understood orcs, peace would never last.

Orgrim suspected that a part of Lothar must have known his words to be the truth because the human warrior fell silent. Instead, it was the boy-king who spoke up next in a quiet voice. “I know that if my father were here, he would urge me to seek peace and forgive the Horde for what they have done, but I don’t know if I can. When I look at you, the only thing that I feel is pain and hatred.”

Orgrim knew exactly how the boy felt. When the Red Pox swept through Draenor and the world began to die, he had also felt nothing but pain and despair. Even if he hadn’t fully trusted Gul’dan’s claims that the draenei were responsible for their suffering, it was so easy to lose himself to bloodlust. That was probably why he found the boy-king’s next words to be so surprising.

“But… I still think it’s worth hoping that our people can live in peace, even if I’m never able to stop hating orcs. Now that I’m here I’ve realized that I don’t want to end up like you, spending my remaining days wondering what the world could have looked like if I had chosen to believe that things could have been different,” said the boy-king, his words cutting Orgrim deeper than even that sharpest knife.

“You’re going to be disappointed, boy. Life isn’t a shaman’s story, and it rarely has a happy ending.”

“Maybe, and if your people prove incapable of living peacefully on Azeroth, then we will do what needs to be done,” said the young king, his eyes hard as he looked up to the much larger orc. “But I still believe it is worth trying. I owe my father at least this much and I genuinely hope you’re wrong about your people. My people have suffered enough from war for one lifetime.”

As Lothar looked down at the young king with pride in his eyes, Orgrim found himself unsure of what to say. After several moments, he settled on an honest response. “I hope I’m wrong as well, boy.”

He doubted that he was, but he hoped that those who came after him would make better decisions and lead the orcs to a better future. Apparently having nothing left to say to him, the young king gave a satisfied nod and turned to leave as he delivered a final comment. “You will not be missed, Orgrim Doomhammer. Azeroth will be a better place once you are gone.”

Lothar glared at him silently for several moments before following the boy without another word.

Orgrim’s gaze followed them until they left his line of sight. Once they were gone, he let out a heavy sigh and returned to his desk. As he looked down at the words he had written, Orgrim thought about the young king’s words and he recalled the prophecy of the Doomhammer.

The prophecy had correctly predicted that the last of his family’s line would doom the orcish people, so he had some hope that the rest would prove just as accurate. The prophecy predicted that a stranger would wield the Doomhammer and bring salvation to his people, so maybe the young king’s hopes weren’t as naive as they sounded.

As he contemplated this distant possibility, Orgrim decided to add one final entry to his writings, a message to the one who would wield the Doomhammer.

“Whoever takes up the Doomhammer after me, know that you carry the weight of an entire people’s hopes and dreams. Do not make the same mistakes I did. Seek the wisdom of the spirits of the land around you to lead our people to a better future. A future in which they can regain their honor and live without the shame that my generation has placed on their shoulders. The future of the orcs now lies in your hands. May you be the salvation they so desperately need.”

Orgrim hoped that this letter would actually find its way to their hands.

With his final words committed to parchment, Orgrim placed the human writing utensil down and leaned back in his chair. He knew that his time was coming to an end and that there was nothing left for him to do. As he closed his eyes and waited for the humans to drag him to his inevitable end, Orgrim Doomhammer made peace with his fate and prayed to the spirits that his people would one day find theirs.

Korialstrasz, though he still used Krasus while wearing his mortal guise, used magic to hover in the air over the recently plowed field as he waited for the human farmers to finish planting their seeds.

He’d flown over the fields in his true form at first, but he could tell that the mortals weren’t exactly comfortable with having a dragon flying over them. It didn’t help that the wind caused by his wings made their tasks significantly more difficult.

“Uh… I think we’re ready, mister dragon.”

Krasus looked down at the young farmer boy who had nervously called for him and offered the boy what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Very well. Then I’ll begin using my magic to accelerate the growth of your crops. I’d suggest that you move out of the way if this makes you uncomfortable.”

Most of the humans did exactly that, but the boy who had called for him shifted hesitantly before asking Krasus a question. “Y-You said that the magical fire you use to grow the plants is safe, right? And that it heals people?”

Krasus’ Life-infused fire was perfectly able to burn anything it touched to ash if he willed it, but mentioning that didn’t seem prudent. “It does. Do you have a wound that needs healing?”

“I hurt my feet a bit while working in the fields yesterday,” the boy admitted, looking down at his worn-out shoes. “I can still work! But… it hurts a whole lot, and I know the priests are really busy….”

Krasus sympathized with the boy and was glad that this was such a simple problem for him to solve. “Say no more, child. Just stay where you are and my flames will heal you as I bring Life to these crops.”

Krasus could tell that some of the other mortals were distrusting of him, but there was little they could do. The child might be little more than a whelp in his eyes, but he was old enough to be considered an adult by the laws of Lordaeron.

The boy looked up at Krasus with a mixture of hope and trepidation in his eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded, signaling that he was ready.

Krasus concentrated carefully. It was a simple matter to summon his Life-infused flames in his true form, but slightly more difficult in his mortal guise. Reaching toward that essence of Life that existed within every member of the Red Dragonflight, Krasus lifted his hand and released a controlled stream of vermillion flames that swept through the field. Wherever it passed, the seeds buried beneath the earth began to sprout and grow at an astonishing rate, quickly maturing into healthy and vibrant crops.

As always, the humans stared in awe at the miraculous sight and their apprehension temporarily disappeared as they watched food grow before their very eyes. The fire soon washed over the boy’s feet, and he gasped in surprise as the pain he had been feeling disappeared and was replaced by a soothing warmth.

“Thank you, mister dragon,” the boy said, his voice filled with gratitude. “My feet don’t hurt no more!”

Krasus smiled warmly at the boy, glad that he had been able to help. “You’re welcome, young one. I’m glad that I could be of assistance.”

As the farmers gathered their tools and set to work harvesting the newly grown crops, Krasus flew a short distance away and prepared a teleportation spell.

This was the final field Krasus planned to assist with for the day. His Flight was hard at work doing their part to ensure the mortals could feed themselves and their prisoners, so there would be someone available to take his place while he traveled back to Dalaran ahead of the significant occasion.

Although Krasus didn’t typically find such morbid events appealing, Orgrim Doomhammer’s execution was one that would be attended by every politically significant figure in the Eastern Kingdoms.

Including a certain Vizier who Krasus was quite keen on seeing, but hadn’t had the opportunity to do so recently. When Krasus had heard from his beloved that Vizier Krivax was some manner of seer who was responsible for sending him the letter detailing Deathwing’s intentions, he’d wanted to meet the nerubian immediately. That desire only grew once Alexstrasza informed him that she’d gifted the Vizier with a portion of her power. Such a thing wasn’t unheard of amongst the Dragonflights, but it was rare that an Aspect would bestow a mortal with such an honor.

Finishing his spell, Krasus disappeared from the fields of Eastweald and reappeared in Dalaran’s main portal hub. Upon arriving, Krasus was immediately greeted by one of the city’s guards as he went through the administrative process of recording his entrance into Dalaran. Once that was taken care of, he immediately started heading toward the city’s exit.

The execution grounds had been placed within the city at first, but things had started to get a bit… out of hand.

“Monster!”

“Murderous animal! You’ll get what you deserve!”

“I hope you suffer, orc!”

Krasus’ attention turned toward a snarling orc that was being marched in chains from the Violet Hold toward the execution grounds. Mortals cursed, spat on, and threw rotten fruit at the prisoner as he passed through the streets.

When the Alliance agreed to allow their citizens to bring accusations against individual members of the Horde for their crimes, Krasus had assumed that there wouldn’t be many occasions of this happening. Times of war were always chaotic, and finding the individual orcs who slaughtered your family or destroyed your village was a daunting task.

Krasus shouldn’t have underestimated the lengths mortals would go to for their vengeance. Almost immediately, prominent nobles hoping to gain favor with their subjects began to fund groups of investigators dedicated to finding the orcs responsible for specific crimes. These groups scoured records, interviewed survivors, and pieced together evidence that would lead to the identification and eventual execution of many orcs. Funding for these efforts was so high that Dalaran had seen several innovations in the field of divination magic in recent times.

Consequently, the number of executions had soared far beyond anyone's expectations and the streets of Dalaran grew packed with the number of people wishing to watch the orcs meet their ends.

As Krasus made his way out of the city, the crowds thickened and he found himself caught in a sea of people all headed towards the execution grounds. The grounds had been moved to a large, open area outside the city walls in order to accommodate the ever-growing number of spectators. Many rows of wooden benches had been erected to provide seating for the onlookers, while a raised platform held the block upon which Orgrim Doomhammer would soon be decapitated.

Although he couldn’t help but find the spectacle a bit distasteful, Krasus understood well why these events were so popular. Hatred always followed large wars, and the Horde’s crimes were even more heinous than most. He could spot people from all over the Eastern Kingdoms and even make out rows of merchants looking to take advantage of the large crowd.

Krasus turned his attention away from the sight and decided to focus on his true objective. Closing his eyes, the Archmage stretched his senses out over the field and searched for the steady flame of Life magic that was almost as familiar as his own. He could sense a few other members of the Red Dragonflight in the crowd, but it didn’t take very long for him to find the person he was looking for. Although Vizier Krivax held only a tiny portion of his beloved’s power, it still held a potency that made it wholly distinct.

Deciding that he had no interest in pushing his way through the crowd, Krasus cast a quick levitation spell and began flying toward his objective. The Vizier was surrounded by guards and seated in a special area reserved for high-ranking officials and nobles. The nerubian guards visibly tensed as he approached, but Vizier Krivax seemed to have sensed him and quickly waved them off.

“Vizier Krivax. It’s good to see you again,” Krasus greeted as he touched down next to the nerubian and took in his new appearance.

Where before Vizier Krivax possessed a brown carapace, his outer layer was now as brightly red as Krasus’ own scales and his robes were now a dark purple. He could even see that the nerubian had a few scales intermingling with his chitinous plates, especially around the joints. Although he still possessed eight eyes, the two largest had taken on a more draconic appearance with slit pupils and a faint glow. His limbs were thicker, his mandibles were sharper and more robust, and he exuded a sense of power that hadn’t previously existed. The nerubian even seems to have grown since the last time Krasus had seen him, standing slightly taller than any other Vizier he had seen.

Overall, most people who saw Vizier Krivax would find him even more intimidating than most nerubians… until he spoke that is.

“It’s good to see you too, Archmage Krasus,” said Vizier Krivax, his voice as cheerful and friendly as ever. “I was a bit worried about you after I heard that you would no longer be a member of the Council of Six. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well and still in Dalaran.”

Krasus could feel his smile grow a bit dimmer as he remembered his meetings with the Council of Six, but he took the Vizier’s words in stride. “Thank you, Vizier Krivax. It’s unfortunate, but I actually find myself to be quite relieved for the opportunity to remain a member of the Kirin Tor without hiding my identity.”

Unfortunately, helping Capital City fight off the C’thrax didn’t change the fact that he had lied to the ruling body of Dalaran for his entire time as a member of the Kirin Tor and hid his true loyalties. Divided loyalties were tolerated in the case of Prince Kael’thas because they were known and Dalaran’s relationship with Quel’thalas was very close.

It also didn’t help that Krasus had secretly used his authority in service to the Red Dragonflight a few times over his long tenure or that Alexstrasza was unpopular with many influential people due to her actions regarding the orc internment camps.

Still, things could have turned out much worse and he could still count some of his former colleagues as friends.

“But that’s enough about me. I’m far more interested in talking about you,” said Krasus, his smile returning as he focused on the Vizier. “You’ve been a hard person to get in touch with recently, Vizier Krivax.”

“Ah. Well, the High King called me back to Azjol-Nerub after he heard about what happened in Uldaman,” said Vizier Krivax, chuckling nervously as he explained himself. “The Queens were… extremely interested in studying my transformation. I’m fairly sure the only reason I’m not still being poked and prodded is that the kingdom needed me to return to my position.”

That didn’t surprise Krasus in the least. The nerubians seemed competent enough to realize that Vizier Krivax was their most personable diplomat.

“What did you tell your ruler about my beloved’s gift?” Krasus asked curiously after casting a privacy ward to prevent any eavesdroppers.

“Uh, how much do you know?” Vizier Krivax asked after a moment of hesitation.

“My Queen has informed me that you’re the seer responsible for sending me that letter,” Krasus readily admitted. “I’ve also been told that this should be kept a secret. I suspect that there’s more to the story, but the Aspects are reticent about their meeting with you. I believe the only reason that I’ve been told this much is that my beloved wishes to send me to handle a few matters in Draenor based on the information that you’ve provided.”

His conversation with his Queen after she’d returned from Uldaman had been confusing, but positive overall. The Aspects seemed to have found a path to finally slay the traitorous Deathwing and were currently traveling to Deepholm. Krasus didn’t know all of the details, but he was eagerly awaiting the good news and his beloved’s return.

She had made clear to him that they would all have much to do once the Aspects returned.

Vizier Krivax slumped in relief at his answer before he responded. “I see. I’m glad to hear that the Aspects are keeping this to a small circle. The matter is… quite sensitive. As for the High King, he believes that the Aspects have a close relationship with Keeper Archaedas and Alexstrasza was extremely grateful to me once she learned that I was the one who found Uldaman. I informed him that Alexstrasza gave me this reward for helping the Aspects discover a way to reach Deathwing.”

Krasus chuckled in amusement. He had never heard the Aspects say a good word about any of the Keepers aside from Tyr and Freya, but there was hardly anyone who would know that. Finding a path to Deathwing was also a great achievement worthy of reward. It was a simple and effective lie that nobody would be able to prove false. “Did they believe you?”

“Dragons already have a reputation for being a bit… arbitrary in their decisions, and not enough is known about Alexstrasza for the High King and his council to know if this is out of character,” Vizier Krivax explained. “I think the Queens were so eager to study me that nearly everyone just decided to accept it and move forward.”

Krasus was glad to hear that. There were many races that wouldn’t have so easily accepted one of their own being significantly transformed, but the nerubians seemed far too pragmatic to concern themselves with a few differences.

Their conversation remained pleasant and light as the two of them discussed a variety of matters, from diplomacy to magic. Eventually, Krasus decided to bring up the primary reason that he had decided to seek out the nerubian.

“Vizier Krivax, I’m sure that you’ve already heard this from my beloved, but I wanted to express my deepest gratitude for what you’ve done for us,” said Krasus. When he thought of what might have happened without the nerubian’s interference, he was barely able to contain his rage. “I also wanted to ask if you need any assistance in adjusting to your new abilities. I doubt that there’s anyone on Azeroth more qualified to do so than myself.”

There were a few other members of the Red Dragonflight who had delved into Arcane magic, but none who were as accomplished as himself. He dared to say that he could even match most of the Blue Dragonflight in that area.

Krasus was somewhat amused to find that he could read Vizier Krivax’s body language much better after his transformation, and the nerubian’s interest was quite clear.

“Really? That would be a big help. I’ve been experimenting with my magic from the moment I left Uldaman, but it’s still a bit hard to understand,” said Vizier Krivax, extending one of his lower arms and summoning a small sphere of Life-infused flame. “I can do this pretty easily, but I don’t really understand how Life magic works, or why it affects my Arcane magic. Ever since my empowerment, my normal spells keep doing things I don’t want them to. It’s very frustrating.”

Krasus hummed thoughtfully. He had a feeling about what was going on, but he wanted to be certain of it first. “Vizier Krivax, could you summon a small sphere of water? I have a theory that I would like to verify.”

The Vizier immediately created a small sphere of floating water between them, and Krasus was unsurprised to note that it seemed to be writhing erratically.

“See? This spell is one of the simple ones I learned as a novice, but it’s acting strangely,” Vizier Krivax said, sounding frustrated. “The spell is correct, but it shouldn’t be moving around like this.”

Krasus smiled reassuringly. This wasn’t a problem that he’d had to deal with himself, but it wasn’t unheard of. “I believe I understand what is happening. My beloved’s power is quite possibly the purest source of Life magic still on Azeroth. Even as small of a portion as it is, her power has become a fundamental part of your being and is affecting your entire magical essence. As a result, it is intermingling with your arcane magic and is giving it a certain life-like quality, causing unpredictable effects.”

Krasus idly poked the sphere and chuckled when it attempted to leap at his finger. “You will have to learn to properly separate your magics, but on the bright side, it should be relatively simple for you to learn how to summon a water elemental. You’ll need to keep testing to see how it can be useful in other ways as Life is an extremely powerful force.”

“Really? I’ve always wanted to summon a water elemental,” said Vizier Krivax, glancing toward his sphere. “Do you have any advice for me on how I can actually isolate these magics? Life magic just seems to come naturally whenever I want to cast something.”

“Of course,” said Krasus, glad he could be of assistance.

Krasus taught the young nerubian several tricks that would help him adjust his mindset and call only on the type of magic he wanted. Different magics typically required different mentalities to use, but Vizier Krivax was having difficulty because he could now call on Life subconsciously.

It didn’t surprise him to find that Vizier Krivax’s Life magic was even purer than his own. Such was to be expected given its source. It did mean that the Vizier would likely be prodigious in the art of creating golems if he ever chose to pursue such a path, something which sent the nerubian into a thoughtful silence when he heard.

Their conversation continued until they were suddenly interrupted by the blaring of a loud horn, signaling the arrival of Orgrim Doomhammer at the execution grounds. Krasus and Krivax exchanged a solemn glance as the crowd's murmurs grew louder. After a few moments, Krasus spotted the orc being led toward the platform in chains while being completely surrounded by heavily armored guards.

As the executioner stepped up onto the platform and the mortal representatives responsible for overseeing his trial took their position, a hush fell over the crowd. Much to Krasus’ relief, it seemed like the mortals didn’t intend to waste any time as they began reading the sentence as soon as the orc stepped onto the platform.

“Orgrim Doomhammer, you have been found guilty by a duly appointed council of judges of numerous war crimes against the people of Azeroth,” said Chief Judge Farthing, a bishop of the Church. His voice was cold and authoritative as he read out the orc’s sentence. “You have consorted with foul magical forces inimical to life, commanded armies that massacred countless innocent civilians, and caused immeasurable pain and suffering throughout these lands. Today, you will pay for those crimes with your life.”

The other judges present, who were a collection of high-ranking representatives from the rest of the mortal nations, nodded solemnly in agreement. The crowd’s murmurs grew into a cacophony of jeers and cheers, as those who had suffered at the hands of the Horde clamored for justice. Krasus could feel the weight of this moment as the officials struggled to get the crowd under control.

Once the grounds were finally quiet enough for her to be heard, the chief judge continued with an unwavering voice. “Before your sentence is carried out, does the prisoner have any last words?”

There was a moment of silence as the crowd seemed to lean in at the question.

“None that would matter to any here,” Doomhammer eventually stated, much to the renewed jeers of the countless surrounding him.

Once the crowd fell silent, the Chief Judge continued once again. “Very well. The sentence that has been handed down by this council is death by beheading. May the Light grant you mercy. Executioner, you may proceed.”

The massive, hooded executioner stepped forward, his ax gleaming in the sunlight. Orgrim Doomhammer was unflinching as he was forced to kneel on the platform and his head was pushed down onto the block. The executioner wasted no time and raised his ax high above his head as the orc stared him straight in the eye. Krasus could almost hear the crowd hold their breath as the ax was brought down in a swift, decisive motion upon Orgrim Doomhammer’s neck. The crowd erupted into cheers as the orc’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, his head rolling a few feet away.

Thus was Orgrim Doomhammer, Warchief of the Horde and the greatest threat in recent generations, finally slain.

Chapter Text

When Krivax decided to inspect the orcish internment camps to see how the Horde prisoners were being treated, he’d expected it to be an unpleasant experience. Things weren’t quite as bad as he’d thought, but they certainly weren’t good.

“Are the camps normally this chaotic?” asked Krivax as he watched the orcish internment camp from a tower overlooking the complex.

“It was far worse when we first started. The orcs have already calmed down significantly since the war ended, though there’s quite a long way to go, ” said Turalyon, former student of Archbishop Faol and current paladin of the Knights of the Silver Hand.

He also happened to be one of the men overseeing the Church of Holy Light’s efforts in the many orc internment camps. The actual Overseer of this camp was conveniently away on business, so Turalyon had offered to show him around in their stead. Krivax noticed that the paladin was quite curious about the changes to his appearance, but was thankfully far too polite to say anything out loud.

“This is calm?!” Krivax exclaimed incredulously.

Orc men, women, and children were being corralled by armed guards to the center of the camp where a priest was handing out rations.

The orcs were more than a little hostile to their captors. Some of them snarled and bared their teeth, while others spat curses in their native tongue. Krivax even saw several of them make aggressive moves against the guards until they were forced back into line by spearpoint.

Turalyon sighed, his expression grim. “Unfortunately, yes. The prisoners were far more aggressive in the immediate aftermath of the war. It was even common for the captured orcs to throw themselves onto the spears of the guards rather than face the dishonor of captivity. Most of the ones who wished to die have already done so by now, so the situation has stabilized somewhat.”

“That’s… horrible,” Krivax muttered as he watched an orc child cling to its mother and glare hatefully at the guards. “How is the food situation in the Eastern Kingdoms? Are you able to properly sustain their rations? I’ve only just been able to return from Azjol-Nerub and I was a bit too… busy to keep a close eye on the situation here.”

That was a big understatement as far as Krivax was concerned. The Queens were extremely optimistic about what they would be able to do with what they’ve learned from studying him so far. He’d even heard one of them mention that they might be able to design an entirely new caste, which was no small feat.

The Queens had run test after test on his new abilities and taken every biological sample they could reasonably acquire from his body. Unfortunately, it turned out that what they could reasonably acquire was far more than he had expected given their access to magic…

Krivax shuddered and forced his mind back to the present.

“The food situation is quite dire, but we should be able to sustain our current rate of consumption,” said Turalyon with a furrowed brow. “Much of our farmland is destroyed or damaged, but the rest is nearly in a state of permanent harvest thanks to the Red Dragonflight. The Alliance has also dictated that the orcs only be fed the minimum necessary to sustain them, which is much less than expected. I don’t like it, but there will be a chance to make a change once the situation improves.”

Krivax wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, but he understood why the Alliance had made such a decision.

Stretching his new senses over the camp, Krivax could distinctly feel the many thousands of lives around him as warm flames, and he was struck by how similar the different races felt to him. The only exception was the Drakonid and Dragonspawn guards sent by the Red Dragonflight to help guard the camps. The Drakonid and Dragonspawn were draconic races that served the Dragonflights and resembled tall humanoid dragons and large centaur-shaped dragons respectively. Krivax could feel a strange hint of familiarity within them that reminded him of his new wellspring of power.

“I can see that most of the guards here are being provided by Azjol-Nerub and the Red Dragonflight. Are they to your satisfaction, Sir Turalyon?” Krivax asked as he observed the draconic and nerubian guards throughout the camp. “I understand that many nations aren’t particularly enthusiastic about spending resources or manpower on these camps. I hope our warriors have proven themselves up to the task.”

Turalyon nodded, his eyes softening somewhat. “Yes, the warriors sent by Azjol-Nerub and the Red Dragonflight have been invaluable. Their discipline and adherence to given orders have been commendable, and they’ve done a lot to keep the camp relatively stable. Circumstances would be much worse without their assistance.”

Krivax felt relief at the paladin’s words, although he wasn’t very surprised. If there was one thing that generally nerubians did well, it was taking orders. The Drakonids and Dragonspawns were raised from the egg to be servants, so they were similarly devoted to their duties. There would be little risk of them growing lax or abusing the prisoners under their watch.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Krivax said genuinely. “Things could certainly be better around here, but they could also be much worse. I’ll be sure to inform the High King that the camps are in good hands.”

That was a lie. High King Anub’arak didn’t care about the orcs enough to receive status updates about them, but it felt like the polite thing to say.

“I’m glad to hear that Vizier Krivax,” Turalyon replied with a hint of gratitude in his voice. “The Church of the Holy Light has been doing its best to ensure the safety of the prisoners while also bringing them to the Light, but I admit it has been… difficult. Azjol-Nerub’s support has been indispensable.”

Both the missionaries sent by the Church as well as the shamans sent by the Wildhammer weren’t having much success with converting the orcs, mostly due to their continued hostility. Krivax hoped that would change once the Fel magic began to leave their system and their lethargy began to kick in, making them more docile and open to new ideas.

Deciding that he’d seen enough of the camps, Krivax addressed his primary reason for traveling to the Hillsbrad Foothills. “Thank you for showing me around, SIr Turalyon, but there is another matter that I could use your help with.”

Turalyon looked up at him with a curious expression. “Oh? If it’s within my power, then I will do my best to be of assistance.”

“I see no reason why it wouldn’t be. There is a noble by the name of Aedas Blackmoore, the current lord of Durnholde Keep, who I intend to confront. I’ve recently received word from an anonymous informant that he has committed a crime,” Krivax explained.

Aedelas Blackmoore was the current slaveowner of a young orc called Thrall, birth name Go'el, who would grow up to be an immensely important figure in Azeroth’s history. Thrall had the potential to become the most powerful shaman in the world as well as the future Warchief of the orcs and New Horde, and Krivax had no intention of allowing him to stay where he currently was.

“The information is specific enough that I feel compelled to check, but I doubt Queen Regent Menethil would move against one of her nobles without hard evidence,” Krivax continued. Obviously, there wasn’t any evidence at all as he couldn’t exactly cite the words of the goblins he’d hired to sneak into Durnholde Keep. “I would like you to come with me as a witness, as well as to keep the peace. As long as I get close enough, I should be able to verify if there is any credence to what I’ve been told.”

His new ability to sense Life should be enough to lead him to Thrall once he got to Durnholde Keep. Orcs and humans felt very similar, but not enough to be indistinguishable.

Turalyon considered Krivax’s request for a moment before asking the obvious question. “What exactly were you told about Lord Blackmoore? I’ve heard certain rumors about the man, but he performed well during the war and made quite a name for himself. He has also apparently become a mentor figure to the Prince of Alterac and the close friend of one of the paladins of my order.”

“It’s admittedly a rather minor matter, but I’ve been told that Lord Blackmoore found an orcish infant during the First War and decided to raise him as a slave and train him in combat,” said Krivax. Although the enslavement of Thrall was fully legal in the original timeline, Queen Regent Menethil and other Alliance leaders hadn’t yet allowed such a thing within Lordaeron. The former members of the Horde were still only prisoners of war at this time, not slaves.

Slavery was generally banned within the Eastern Kingdoms as slavery was considered to be morally repugnant by the Church, but the hatred for the orcs was starting to grow stronger than religious piety. Krivax had already heard whispers that a few different nations were considering proposals to change that to make use of the orcs as unpaid laborers to rebuild what they had destroyed, which was why it was important he acted before that could happen.

“You can see why I have come to you. There are very few people who would consider offending a powerful noble for an orcish child, but I’ve heard that you are a man of principle and compassion,” Krivax continued, hoping to appeal to Turalyon’s sense of justice.

It was difficult to overstate how much hatred there was toward the orcs. The average human would rather kill an orc themself than rescue it from enslavement, but Krivax remembered Turalyon to be one of the most compassionate and soft-hearted of the paladins.

Sure enough, Turalyon’s eyes narrowed as a mixture of concern and anger flickered across his face. “If what you say is true, then I can understand your worry. The orcs have been led astray by dark magic, but we are all children of the Light. I will accompany you to Durnholde Keep and we will investigate if there is any truth to this matter.”

Krivax felt a wave of relief wash over him at the paladin’s easy agreement. Thrall was the last urgent matter related to the future of Azeroth that he needed to deal with for quite a while. After this was done, Krivax would finally have some time to himself when he didn’t need to be scheming or desperately trying to change the course of history.

He had been terrified out of his mind at first when he realized that Nozdormu knew about his metaknowledge, but he couldn’t deny that a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Of course, Krivax still had plans on improving the situation in Azeroth as the head diplomat of Azjol-Nerub, but the most important points in his plan wouldn’t happen until he was sent to Kalimdor. The High King estimated that they wouldn’t be ready for that for another year, which would give Krivax plenty of time to relax as much as someone in his position could and grow accustomed to his new power. He also hoped to spend some time catching up with Masruk and maybe visiting the Tuskarr villages.

Krivax could already imagine himself lying lazily in a silk hammock, eating a plate full of shrimp, and reading a book on golem crafting.

“Really? Then let’s go now!” Krivax said with perhaps a touch too much enthusiasm.

Turalyon raised an eyebrow at Krivax’s eagerness but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he nodded and said, “Very well, Vizier Krivax. Let us depart for Durnholde Keep.”

Krivax gathered his guards and informed them of their new destination. Durnholde Keep wasn’t very far from the internment camp they were currently in, so the journey wouldn’t be a long one. As Krivax made his way to rescue Azeroth’s destined Chosen One with a righteous paladin by his side, he couldn’t help but fantasize about an easy future filled with magical experimentation and handling minor diplomatic issues.

He knew deep in his heart that his fantasies were unrealistic as the Burning Legion and Old Gods would inevitably react to the changes he had made, but a nerubian could hope, right?

Malygos watched in anticipation as Archaedas and a few of Uldum’s guardians worked to configure the device that would soon open a portal to the Elemental Domain of Earth, Deepholm.

Piercing the defenses hiding Uldum from the rest of Azeroth was not easy, but Archaedas was intimately familiar with the facility’s concealment magic and Malygos was the greatest mage in Azeroth, regardless of what Nozdormu might say about Azshara. Their success was inevitable, especially after the strange little prophet had told them exactly where they needed to search on Kalimdor.

Once there, it had been a relatively simple matter to handle Uldum’s inhabitants so they could begin working on a path to Deepholm.

The Curse of Flesh had affected the constructs assigned to the facility's maintenance and security, turning them into mortals that possessed feline lower bodies and heads as well as an elven torso. The so-called ‘tol’vir’ had devolved into many competing tribes that built several cities in the desert around Uldum. They were all still fanatically loyal to the Titans and quickly acknowledged the Keeper’s authority once his identity was verified… for the most part.

A few petty tol’vir rulers claimed that Archaedas was a fraud in a blatant attempt to hold onto their authority, but that hadn’t been much of an issue. There was no mortal force of Azeroth that could deny the wishes of four Aspects and a Keeper when they were all working toward the same goal.

The device, an enormous circular gate, had once served as a pathway for the Keepers and their forces to access the Elemental Plane if they ever so needed. The veil separating Azeroth from the Elemental Plane was particularly weak in Uldum, which was why the Keepers chose to build the device there. Predictably, a foolish mortal tol’vir by the name of Irmaat had attempted to exploit this phenomenon to harness forces beyond his ability to control. As a result, one of the tol’vir cities had been destroyed for his hubris and Uldum had become closely aligned to the Elemental Domain of Wind, Skywall.

Unless Malygos and his siblings wanted to fight through an army of air elementals on their way to Neltharion, they would have to wait for Archaedas to finish recalibrating the device to Deepholm.

“I can’t believe we’re so close to finally putting an end to this nightmare,” said Alexstrasza, her voice tinged with sadness despite the resolve Malygos could see in her eyes.

There wasn’t a single one among them who wasn’t eager to put an end to Neltharion, especially after hearing in detail what he would have done to Azeroth without the little prophet’s intervention.

“This isn’t how I expected it would happen,” Ysera said solemnly. “I had envisioned that our brother’s fate would be decided at the end of a grand battle, but this feels much more like an execution.”

Without the intervention of a third party, the outcome of this endeavor was already decided. Even if Neltharion wasn’t already seriously wounded from their last encounter, there was little chance he would be able to win a fight against the five of them.

“Fate often takes unexpected paths,” Nozdormu remarked, his gaze drifting as he looked at something none of them could see. “There are times when even the mightiest beings meet their end with barely a whisper.”

“So long as the traitor meets his end, I don’t care how it happens,” Malygos said firmly. While his siblings were very concerned about Azeroth’s dismal future, he found it difficult to care about anything other than Neltharion’s death.

Malygos wished that he could draw out the vermin’s suffering, but prior experience was an effective teacher. He had every intention of putting an end to this as quickly as possible.

Alexstrasza glanced at him with a worried expression but was wise enough not to say anything. Instead, she merely sighed and turned her attention back to the gate. “I truly wish it hadn’t come to this.”

A part of Malygos wanted to scoff, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Before… everything, he was closer to Neltharion than to any of his other siblings. Ysera and Nozdormu were both too consumed by their own duties while Alexstrasza’s outlook on the world was just too different from his own. There had been a time when Malygos had considered Neltharion to be his best friend, and he was quite sure the feeling was mutual.

Malygos could still remember when Neltharion had come to him for help when he started to lose control of his little experiments…

Despite this, their bond had not been enough to prevent Neltharion from taking everything away from him and leaving Malygos a hollow husk of the dragon he once was. Feeling his mind begin to spiral as it always did when he thought of the past, Malygos forcefully pushed the memories away and focused instead on the present. His vengeance was finally at hand and he wouldn’t allow it to slip away for a second time.

After nearly an hour of waiting, Archaedasr finally managed to recalibrate the gate, and the portal to Deepholm sprang to life in a burst of shimmering energy. Malygos could already feel the dense elemental energy emanating from the portal.

“It is done,” Archaedas announced, his stone features as unchanging as ever. “Our route to the fallen Aspect is open. We must not delay, or else we risk allowing Therazane the Stonemother a path to Azeroth.”

The Elemental Lords were sealed away for good reason, and nothing good would come from their escape. Ragnaros, the Lord of Fire, had successfully done so and that was already trouble enough for all of them. The little prophet claimed that Therazane and Neptulon the Tidehunter were less hostile than Ragnaros and Al’akir the Windlord, but it would be wise to avoid unnecessary risks.

“Then let us go,” said Alexstrasza as she walked toward the portal. “This has gone on for long enough.”

After Malygos finished casting his most powerful concealment spells over the group, the Aspects stepped through the portal one after another with the Keeper following close behind.

In his long life, Malygos had seen Deepholm a few times for primarily research purposes, but he’d seldom had the opportunity to actually visit the Elemental Plane in person. The difficulty of penetrating the barrier and the risk of attracting an Elemental Lord’s attention simply made it not worth the risk. Malygos spent a moment taking in his new surroundings. It was rare for someone such as him to have new experiences, after all.

Almost immediately, Malygos found his attention drawn to the massive structure in the center of Deepholm. It reminded him somewhat of Wyrmrest Temple and had obviously been built by the Keepers when they created the Elemental Plane. It was likely that Archaedas himself had been heavily involved in the project. The Temple of Earth had served to hold and protect an artifact called the World Pillar, which separated the Elemental Plane from the rest of Azeroth.

If Neltharion was to destroy the World Pillar as the little prophet claimed he would, the consequences would be catastrophic.

Pulling his gaze away from the temple, Malygos turned his attention to the rest of Deepholm. It took on the appearance of a gigantic underground cavern with stone pillars jutting out from the ceiling and floor. Boulders could be seen floating through the air and elemental creatures of all shapes and sizes moved about, oblivious to the powerful beings that had just entered their realm. Malygos could even see a few dragons made of stone flying in the distance. It felt strange to see nonsapient elementals that looked so similar to his own people, especially when the origins of these dragon-shaped elementals were unclear.

Although thinking about everything he knew about Neltharion, it was likely that the stone dragons were another one of his discarded experiments.

Glowing crystals illuminated the cavernous expanse, casting eerie, dancing shadows across the craggy walls. The air was heavy with the scent of earth, and the distant rumble of shifting stone echoed throughout Deepholm.

“We should find Neltharion and leave this place as quickly as possible,” said Ysera, her expression distinctly uncomfortable. “There is barely any plant life here at all, and I find it difficult to feel the Emerald Dream. It’s… unsettling.”

“It is a strange place to be sure. Elementals always feel different to my senses than most other beings,” said Alexstrasza as she curiously took in her surroundings.

“I can sense the fallen Aspect to the east,” said Archaedas, his eyes narrowing with distaste as he gestured in the direction he needed to go. “Your descriptions of Neltharion’s corruption were not exaggerated. His very presence befouls the gift bestowed upon him by the Makers.”

Malygos scoffed but didn’t give voice to the derision he felt toward the Keeper. The Titans had truly done well when they instilled blind loyalty into their construct.

With Archaedas leading the way, the group began making their way through Deepholm while carefully avoiding the native elementals. Malygos’ magic and Archaedas’ natural connection to the earth would be enough to veil them from notice for some time, but it wouldn’t last forever. They continued onward, moving at a brisk pace and keeping their senses sharp for any sign of danger.

Before long, Archaedas informed them that they were approaching Neltharion’s location and Malygos began to feel the increasing presence of the Void. A few more minutes of travel saw the five of them standing on a ridge overlooking a large lava-filled ravine. The ravine itself had signs of being artificially created and was unnaturally dark when compared to the rest of Deepholm.

However, Malygos barely paid any attention to the nature of the ravine when he spotted his corrupted brother. Neltharion obviously wasn’t expecting anyone to follow him to Deepholm and was currently resting in a pool of lava without a care in the world. Malygos felt a rush of anger at the sight.

How dare he be so at ease after everything that he’s done!

“Good. Neltharion seems to be unaware of our presence,” Alexstrasza whispered, despite the fact that Malygos’ magic prevented any sound from passing beyond their group. “This is the perfect opportunity for us to strike and end this without a prolonged conflict. If everyone remembers their roles, I propose we begin immediately.”

Everyone quickly came to an agreement and prepared themselves for battle. Once they were ready, the Aspects shed their mortal forms and went on the attack. Malygos immediately teleported into the air above Neltharion before he began preparing the spell that would end his brother’s life.

Neltharion instantly sensed the buildup of arcane magic and his eyes flew open. Malygos could see the intense shock in his brother’s eyes as he realized what was happening and who was attacking him.

Before Neltharion could react, Ysera summoned a flurry of thorny vines that dug into his wounds and ensnared his limbs. Alexstrasza launched herself from the edge of the ravine and slammed into Neltharion’s trapped form. The Dragon Queen’s attacks lacked their usual mercy and she quickly grasped one of Neltharion’s wings between her powerful jaws and began pulling with her full strength.

Malygos savored the sound of tearing flesh and the screams of agonizing pain that soon followed.

Neltharion exploded in dark flames that burned away Ysera’s vines and tried to skewer Alexstrasza with giant spikes of stone, but Archaedas contested his control over the earth and prevented him from doing so.

It’s ready…

Several hundred arcane glyphs suddenly appeared in the middle of the air as Malygos finished his spell, surrounding Neltharion from every direction. Beams of pure arcane energy lanced out from each glyph, converging toward the fallen Aspect with enough force to annihilate anything they touched.

Alexstrasza, who was tearing into Neltharion and pinning him in place, suddenly disappeared moments before the attack struck as Nozdormu pulled her back through time onto the ridge.

Neltharion, unable to escape, roared in pain and desperation as the beams struck him, his scales cracking and shattering under the onslaught. His dark, corrupted blood spilled into the lava below, turning the molten rock an unnatural shade of black. The power behind Malygos’ spell was so immense that space itself seemed to distort and ripple from the intensity of the arcane magic unleashed.

A being as powerful as Neltharion would normally be able to shrug off such an attack… if he wasn’t already so heavily injured.

The other Aspects as well as Archaedas joined in on the assault, with Alexstrasza bathing Neltharion in Life-infused flames that seared through his corrupted flesh and Ysera sending her most potent nightmares to torment his mind. Nozdormu unleashed torrents of sand that ground away at Neltharion’s scales, hastening the passage of time around his wounds and forcing the corrupted Aspect to experience years, decades, and then centuries without rest. Archaedas summoned immense stone fists that slammed into Neltharion and further pinned him down.

Neltharion’s roars of agony filled Deepholm, echoing through the cavernous expanse. However, even as his body was ravaged and his strength sapped, the fallen Aspect refused to yield. Desperation fueled his actions, and he lashed out with vicious blasts of Void and fire, seeking to break free from the relentless onslaught.

It was all useless as the combined efforts of the Aspects and the Keeper proved too much for the weakened Neltharion to overcome. With each passing moment, his resistance waned, and his once-mighty form was battered and torn apart. His roars of pain began to fade, replaced by the sound of labored breath and pitiful whimpers.

Malygos could see the exact moment that Neltharion realized that he was going to die. The fallen Aspect’s eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and terror, and he locked gazes with Malygos.

Realizing that Neltharion intended to speak, he cast a spell that would allow him to hear his brother’s dying words over the cacophony of their combined attacks. The gesture was not born out of compassion, but of a desire to savor every last moment of his enemy’s suffering.

“Do… you… think this… will change… anything?” Neltharion wheezed, blood frothing at the corners of his mouth. “Azeroth… is doomed… you… will fall… to madness… next… brother.”

Malygos felt a hint of unease as he recalled the words of the little prophet. However, he pushed aside those thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Vengeance.

With a final surge of power, Malygos channeled every drop of his magical might into ridding the world of Neltharion, pouring his hatred and despair into the spell. It took only a moment before the arcane energy pierced through the fallen Aspect’s body and tore a hole through his heart. The once mighty Earthwarder let out a last, feeble cry before his body finally succumbed to the assault, and the darkness within seemed to explode outwards as if acknowledging its host’s demise.

Neltharion’s massive form slumped, lifeless and broken, into the lava-filled ravine. The Aspects and Keeper ceased their attacks, staring down at the corpse of a being that had once been one of Azeroth’s greatest champions.

“It is done,” said Alexstrasza, her voice heavy with grief and exhaustion. “Neltharion is no more.”

It's… really over?

Malygos studied the corpse of his brother with every diagnostic spell he knew, ensuring that there was truly no possibility Neltharion would recover. As each spell reached the same conclusion, Malygos could feel an overwhelming sense of… emptiness beginning to fill him. Oh, there was intense satisfaction and relief as well, but it felt as if his mind simply didn’t know how to react after achieving the vengeance he had been seeking for over ten millennia.

“Indeed he is,” Archaedas said as he approached the corpse, easily wading into the lava without harm. “And with the corrupted Aspect dead, the gift of the Makers can be reclaimed.”

The Keeper summoned a device that he claimed would be able to extract and store the essence of the Earthwarder from Neltharion’s corpse. Without it, they would need to perform a complicated ritual during a rare celestial event to transfer Neltharion’s power to a new host. Not to mention the risk of the vermin’s children finding a way to absorb their father’s power and continuing his dark legacy.

The device itself was a plain gold sphere that reminded Malygos too much of the Dragon Soul.

“We will have to be careful when we choose Neltharion’s successor,” Ysera said, watching as the sphere began to fill with a shimmering earth-toned energy. “Azeroth cannot afford another tragedy like this one.”

The Aspects had already discussed the matter at length after their meeting with the little prophet. The Void’s hold over the Black Dragonflight would be significantly weakened with Neltharion’s death, but not entirely eradicated. Archaedas knew of a method to forcibly purge an individual of the Void, but the process would essentially completely recreate them, body and soul.

There was little difference between that and death, as far as Malygos was concerned.

The nerubian had mentioned something about an uncorrupted black dragon living on the Broken Isles, but the Aspects had yet to meet them. Whoever they chose would need to possess a strong enough will to fight off the whispers of the Old Gods. It wouldn’t be optimal if the Aspects were unable to pass down Neltharion’s power given the future threats Azeroth would face, but it would be preferable to history repeating itself.

“The process is complete,” Archaedas announced as he began making his way back to the group. “I suggest we leave, as I can sense Therazane gathering her subordinates in preparation to confront us.”

The Aspects quickly agreed and decided to leave Deepholm. Malygos gathered Neltharion’s corpse and Archaedas in his telekinetic grasp and took to the air behind his siblings. As they soared through the cavernous expanse toward the portal that would return them to Azeroth, Malygos caught a glimmer of worry in Alexstrasza’s eyes.

“Malygos,” she said, her voice empathetic and infuriatingly soft. “How are you feeling? You suffered the most out of any of us after Neltharion’s betrayal.”

Malygos would normally just glare at his sister and give a caustic reply, but he couldn’t seem to muster his normal anger. “I’m not sure how I feel, Alexstrasza. I suggest you ask again in a few years.”

Alexstrasza seemed relieved to have received an actual answer. “I understand how you feel. It almost doesn’t feel real. But we will have time to heal from the wounds Neltharion has left behind. Just remember that we are here for you, brother. Even if it might not feel like it, we are a family.”

Malygos managed a small nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed her words. It felt as though a yawning emptiness had opened up inside of him once his vengeance was satiated, and he didn’t know if that void could ever be filled again.

“And regardless of anything else, we cannot forget that today is a good day for Azeroth and its future,” Alexstrasza continued, her tone taking on a hopeful note. “We have rid the world of a great evil, reclaimed the power of the Earthwarder, and proven we fight together as we once did. Together, I’m certain we’ll be able to solve the various crises that Vizier Krivax brought to our attention.”