Alaric casually pulled a magical scroll from his pocket and, to the surprise of the soldiers, unrolled it without hesitation.
For ordinary people, these scrolls, usable by most, were extremely precious magical items. Only some mages could craft them, making them worth a small fortune.
Even high nobles or powerful wizards rarely used them casually. Yet Alaric simply used one, making him seem like a wealthy tycoon to the soldiers.
As the scroll unfurled, the arcane runes on the parchment shimmered with a purple glow. Immediately, the sky above the griffon rider changed.
The fel-tainted clouds cleared, turning back to their original blue, and the so-called Rain of Fire was completely dispersed.
The crisis was averted.
The spell was broken, and Gul'dan no longer bothered to try. He cast a long, meaningful glance at the human mage on the walls before retreating.
This was not the first time Gul'dan had faced off against Alaric's magic. Over these days, the two had clashed several times.
Though Alaric, not yet at legendary power, was weaker than the warlock in raw strength, his mastery of many spells and unpredictable tactics kept them evenly matched, especially since neither had gone all-out.
Though aware his true power was inferior, Alaric remained calm.
Firstly, his equipment far surpassed Gul'dan's, items like the Weaveweaver, Ravenclaw's Crown, Dragon Soul, and others, which were almost artifact-grade.
With these, Alaric could confront a fully powered Gul'dan head-on.
Secondly, Alaric had a true expert at his side, Onyxia.
The black dragon princess, daughter of Deathwing, possessed immense power. Even among the dragonflight, few could rival her.
Alone, she could stand toe-to-toe with Gul'dan.
If Alaric hadn't used some clever trickery to outwit Onyxia and gained the support of other guardian dragons, he never would have secured her allegiance as his ally.
With Gul'dan retreating, Alaric chose not to stir trouble and waited quietly.
As the figure in the sky grew closer, everyone on the wall could clearly see the griffon.
For the Alterac soldiers, who had never seen a griffon before, the beast was far wilder and more magnificent than the images in books or on crests, they found it almost unbelievable.
Its feathers gleamed gold, purple, and red in the sunlight. Its massive golden eyes darted keenly as it approached.
And on its back sat a rider, holding the reins and seated as if on a horse.
The griffon flapped its powerful wings, diving toward them before circling overhead. The archers redirected their attention back to the orcs below.
The rider was clearly scouting for a landing spot and eventually chose a nearby turret with a wide circular platform used for boilers, ballistae, and signal fires.
The rider wasn't very tall, clad in ornate silver plate armor, wielding a longsword in one hand and gripping the reins with the other.
At her waist hung an ancient and sacred book.
Her appearance, combined with the golden light seen earlier, instantly made the soldiers realize she was a paladin, and certainly not an enemy.
But when they saw her beautiful elven face, nearly every soldier gawked in surprise.
She was a rare female high elf paladin.
A female warrior, a high elf, and a paladin, any one of these was rare to the sheltered Alterac soldiers, and combined, it was doubly astonishing.
Yet, thinking back on the strong women active around Commander Sandor during the recent battle, the soldiers were somewhat accustomed to such sights.
"Maybe she's another girl here to see the commander."
With that thought, the soldiers began gossiping, a rare pastime amid the fierce fighting.
"Honestly, I've never seen a mage as popular with women as Sandor," one whispered, sharing his impression.
"Most mages I've known are mysterious, all about magic, and don't care about women at all."
"Those noble lords like to chase women, but their taste isn't nearly as good as the commander's," another scoffed.
Their women are plain and weak, nothing like these… each one's got skills!"
"True, true. These women aren't for just anyone to handle."
Some even shouted teasingly at the paladin. "Drop your weapon! The commander's lover has arrived!"
For the soldiers guarding the walls, gossip was their best distraction from the brutal battle.
And Alaric, powerful, mysterious, and surrounded by beautiful women, was naturally their main topic.
The paladin was none other than Liadrin. As a high elf, her hearing was far keener than ordinary humans'.
Hearing herself called the commander's lover, innocent Liadrin blushed deeply.
Soon Alaric arrived to greet the messenger who had braved the orc camp.
"I'm glad I haven't forgotten how to ride a flying mount," Liadrin said, blushing as she pretended not to hear the soldiers' gossip.
She swung her leg over the saddle and dismounted.
"When fighting Amani trolls in Quel'Thalas, I rode dragonhawks a few times, they're smaller and way harder to control than griffons."
"Thank you."
Before leaving the griffon, Alaric heard her whisper to it softly.
"Liadrin!" Alaric said, naturally reaching out to take her hand. "Did you come with Lothar and the others? Why did you ride a griffon here?"
"Yes, and I bring good news." Liadrin smiled playfully but looked a bit tired, likely from overusing the Light.
"Lothar and Alleria are leading the cavalry on the other side of the northern valley," she reported. Alaric gratefully accepted a water skin from Onyxia and took several hearty drinks.
"To support you faster, we got ahead of the main force. We'll attack the Horde from the rear, coordinating with you to trap them."
"Well done!" Alaric clapped his hands with a satisfied smile. "Though Alterac's terrain is rugged, Caer Darrow's surroundings suit cavalry charges perfectly.
With your help, these orcs are doomed."
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