The ancient stones of Dalaran's highest tower seemed to whisper with accumulated wisdom as Archmage Antonidas shook his head, his weathered features bearing the weight of decades spent navigating the treacherous currents of magical and political power. The afternoon light streaming through crystalline windows caught the silver threads in his beard, making them gleam like captured starlight.
"I understand everything you've proposed, Prince Kael'thas," he said, his voice carrying the measured cadence of someone who had learned that hasty words could topple kingdoms. "Your arguments are sound, your reasoning impeccable. But Dalaran remains, fundamentally, a human-dominated city-state, regardless of our diverse population and cosmopolitan ideals."
He gestured toward the great map that dominated one wall of his study, its enchanted surface showing the real-time positions of every major settlement from Silverpine Forest to the Hinterlands. Tiny lights pulsed where human cities thrived, their steady glow a testament to mortal resilience and ambition.
"The relocation of our entire city to your High Elf territories, however magnificent Sandar Hill might be, would face insurmountable opposition. Kel'Thuzad alone would marshal a dozen arguments against it, each more compelling than the last. Modera, for all her progressive views on inter-species cooperation, remains deeply rooted in human traditions. And Draiden..." Antonidas paused, allowing a slight smile to cross his lips. "Well, Draiden still believes that humans are the rightful inheritors of all magical knowledge, regardless of evidence to the contrary."
The Archmage moved to a smaller table where an intricate model of Dalaran's governing structure sat in miniature, six crystalline figures arranged around a circular platform, each one glowing with different colored light to represent the members of the Council of Six.
"Our council system, as you well know, requires unanimous approval for decisions of this magnitude. The relocation of Dalaran would fundamentally alter the balance of power across the continent. Without the support of at least four council members, such a proposal would die in committee before it ever reached formal debate."
Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, resplendent even in travel attire that bore the dust of hard riding and urgent conferences, allowed his famous smile to spread across his aristocratic features. The expression was calculated to disarm, to charm, to suggest that he possessed knowledge that others lacked, and in this case, it was entirely genuine.
"Then perhaps we should consider a different approach entirely, my respected friend," he said, rising from his chair with the fluid grace that marked all children of Silvermoon's nobility. His emerald eyes, bright with the inner fire that marked all who had drunk deeply from the Sunwell's power, focused on something beyond the tower's walls, beyond, perhaps, the limitations of conventional thinking.
"What if we were to transform Dalaran itself into something unprecedented? A floating city that could ascend above the clouds when danger threatens, deploy massive teleportation arrays capable of spanning entire continents, move freely across the world as circumstances require?"
The audacity of the proposal hung in the air between them like a physical presence. Antonidas felt his breath catch as the implications cascaded through his mind like falling dominoes. He had seen such wonders in ancient texts, read fragmentary accounts of cities that sailed through the skies during the height of elven civilization, but those had been dismissed as legend, as the fanciful imaginings of chroniclers drunk on their own eloquence.
Kael'thas continued, his voice gaining strength as he warmed to his theme. "During the height of the Troll Wars, when arcane magic was still young and its possibilities seemingly limitless, the ancient Arathi sorcerers spoke of cities that could traverse the heavens like ships crossing the sea. Imagine Dalaran freed from the constraints of geography, able to position itself wherever magical knowledge was most needed, wherever the defense of civilization required our presence."
The prince's imagination soared as he spoke, envisioning capabilities that would make even the great capital cities of the ancient world pale in comparison. "A floating Dalaran could appear above Stormwind in hours rather than weeks, could evacuate threatened populations through dimensional gateways, could serve as an mobile fortress of knowledge that no earthbound army could threaten."
He had harbored this dream ever since witnessing fragmentary visions of what Dalaran might become, a crystalline city sailing through clouds and starlight, its spires reaching toward infinity while its foundations rested on nothing more substantial than will and magic given form. The technical challenges were immense, but the benefits...
In his most private moments, Kael'thas had entertained an even grander vision: Silvermoon City itself transformed into a floating metropolis, his people's greatest achievement elevated literally and figuratively above the petty concerns of terrestrial politics. But Silvermoon sprawled across leagues of carefully planned districts and gardens, its architecture integrated with living trees that had grown for millennia. The magical infrastructure required to lift such a vast cityscape would dwarf even the Sunwell's prodigious output.
Dalaran, by contrast, was compact, its magical systems already designed for efficiency and integration. The city's existing ley line connections could serve as anchor points for the massive enchantments required, while its population of expert mages could contribute their knowledge to the unprecedented undertaking.
Antonidas nodded slowly, his strategic mind already beginning to catalog the challenges and opportunities such an endeavor would present. "The concept has merit," he admitted, his voice carefully neutral despite the excitement building in his chest. "But even this would require council approval. Kel'Thuzad and the others would demand comprehensive plans, detailed cost projections, guarantees of safety for the civilian population."
He moved to one of the tower's great windows, gazing down at the bustling streets where humans, elves, dwarves, and even the occasional gnome went about their daily business in relative harmony. "The magical energies required would be astronomical. The risks..." He trailed off, imagining what would happen if such massive enchantments failed at the wrong moment.
At that moment, Krasus spoke from his position near the chamber's great fireplace, where he had been standing so still that he might have been mistaken for a statue. The Red Dragon's mortal form was elegant and understated, but those who knew his true nature could see the ancient wisdom that burned behind his too-bright eyes.
"Antonidas, Kael'thas, I must inform you both that my time in Dalaran is drawing to a close." His voice carried undertones of regret and necessity in equal measure. "I will be departing within the week."
Antonidas turned from the window, genuine surprise flickering across his features. In all their years of collaboration, Krasus had never spoken of leaving, never suggested that his commitment to the Kirin Tor might be temporary.
"Why now? Your knowledge and counsel have been invaluable, especially during these troubled times. The insights you've provided into magical theory alone..."
Krasus raised one hand in a gesture that somehow conveyed both appreciation and finality. "The Red Dragonflight suffered catastrophic losses during the recent conflicts. Alexstrasza herself bears wounds that may never fully heal, not just to her body, but to her spirit. The Dragonflights' ancient pact with the mortal races has been strained to its breaking point."
He moved to the great map, his fingers tracing invisible paths across its surface as he spoke. "Wyrmrest Temple stands nearly empty now, its defenses weakened by the loss of so many of our greatest champions. The other flights grow restless, questioning whether our long guardianship of Azeroth serves any purpose beyond prolonging mortal conflicts."
The weight of millennia seemed to settle on Krasus's shoulders as he continued. "Moreover, my true identity is no longer the secret it once was. Word has spread through the magical community that one of the Council of Six is, in fact, a Red Dragon in mortal guise. Some view this as a betrayal of trust, others as an unacceptable infiltration of mortal institutions."
Antonidas felt a chill that had nothing to do with the mountain air. "Surely you don't believe we would ask you to leave? Your contributions to the Kirin Tor transcend questions of species or origin."
"No," Krasus replied with something that might have been a smile. "But I have come to believe that the Dragonflights' direct involvement in mortal affairs has created more problems than it has solved. We were meant to be guardians, not governors. Watchers, not participants. Perhaps it is time for us to return to our original roles."
He gestured toward the window where the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Dalaran's magical districts. "The various races of this world must learn to cooperate without draconic oversight. They must find their own paths to unity and strength, lest they become dependent on powers they do not understand."
The political implications of Krasus's departure struck Antonidas immediately. "The Council of Six cannot function with a vacant seat. According to our charter, you have the right to recommend a successor."
Krasus shook his head, his expression growing distant. "A Red Dragon's recommendation would carry little weight under current circumstances. Besides, among the mages currently serving in Dalaran, the only one I've worked closely with is young Rhonin, and he lacks both the experience and the temperament for such responsibility."
The dragon-mage's assessment was accurate, if painful to acknowledge. Rhonin possessed extraordinary talent, his raw magical potential exceeded that of many archmages, but his youth and impulsive nature made him unsuitable for the delicate political maneuvering that council membership required. Moreover, his abrasive personality had earned him enemies throughout Dalaran's magical hierarchy.
Antonidas turned to Kael'thas, recognizing an opportunity to test the prince's political acumen. "Perhaps you might offer a suggestion? Your perspective on magical talent is... unique."
Kael'thas leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint entering his emerald eyes. "Well, there are several possibilities. Rommath has both the magical knowledge and the administrative experience that council work demands. Aethas combines scholarly brilliance with diplomatic skills. Even young Khadgar shows remarkable promise, though he lacks the seasoning that formal council work requires."
Antonidas's expression grew pained. "I should not have asked you. You know perfectly well that political necessity limits our options."
The unspoken reality hung between them: the delicate balance between human and elven interests within the Kirin Tor had always required careful management. The council traditionally included one elven member, a concession to Quel'Thalas's magical expertise and political importance, but never more than one. Allowing multiple elven archmages to join would shift the balance too dramatically, creating resentment among human members and their supporters.
As for Khadgar, his youth remained a insurmountable obstacle despite his considerable abilities. The other council members, all veterans with decades of experience, would never accept leadership from someone barely past his twentieth year.
Kael'thas allowed his jest to fade into a more serious expression. "Very well, let me offer a genuine recommendation: Ansirem Runeweaver."
The name resonated through the chamber like the tolling of a great bell. Ansirem had served Dalaran faithfully for over two decades, his contributions to magical research earning respect across multiple disciplines. His work on protective ward systems had saved countless lives during recent conflicts, while his diplomatic efforts had strengthened ties between Dalaran and several neighboring kingdoms.
"His magical attainments are unquestionable," Kael'thas continued, "his reputation among both the scholarly community and the general population is exemplary, and his contributions to the city's defense speak for themselves. Most importantly, he's human, a factor that would address any concerns about species representation on the council."
Kael'thas's smile returned, but this time it carried a different quality, the calculating expression of someone playing a long game with pieces others had not yet recognized. "Kel'Thuzad and the others would find it difficult to object to such a qualified candidate. The vote should pass unanimously."
Of course, the prince had his own reasons for supporting a candidate who would not challenge his growing influence within Dalaran's power structures. Eventually, when Rommath, Aethas, Khadgar, and even young Rhonin had achieved legendary status through their own achievements, they could naturally challenge the positions held by the current council members. It was the way of magical societies, power flowed to those capable of wielding it most effectively.
The Council of Six operated on principles established centuries ago, when Dalaran was first founded as a sanctuary for magical learning. Council members were elected by their peers, but the system included certain unwritten rules that had governed succession for generations. Legendary mages, those who had transcended normal magical limitations through study, achievement, or sheer force of will, automatically earned consideration for council positions.
For over two millennia, no legendary mage had been denied a council seat when one became available. It was a precedent that gave hope to ambitious young spellcasters while ensuring that the council's membership reflected the pinnacle of magical achievement.
In time, whether or not Kael'thas held the formal title of Speaker, he would wield the greatest influence within Dalaran's governing structure. And when that day came, decisions about floating cities and relocations to elven territories would become much simpler to navigate.
Antonidas released a breath he had not realized he was holding. "Your recommendation aligns with my own thoughts on the matter. Ansirem's appointment would provide stability during these turbulent times."
The current situation left little room for political maneuvering or factional disputes. With tensions rising across the continent and threats emerging from multiple directions, the Council of Six needed unity above all else.
Kael'thas allowed his political mask to slip, his expression growing genuinely serious as he shifted to matters of more immediate concern. "Speaking of turbulent times, what news from Lordaeron? Judging by your direction of travel, Speaker, you came directly from the capital."
Antonidas's features tightened almost imperceptibly. "King Terenas is... displeased. He has apparently destroyed his favorite vase, the crystal one gifted by the Stormwind delegation, and is currently planning to convene a meeting of the Seven Kingdoms to discuss what he terms 'the Quel'Thalas situation.'"
The prince raised one elegant eyebrow. "He instructed you to deliver that message, didn't he? An attempt at intimidation wrapped in diplomatic language?"
"It was meant as both warning and threat," Antonidas acknowledged. "But his concerns are not entirely without foundation."
The Archmage moved to a detailed map of the northern continent, his finger tracing the borders between various kingdoms and territories. "You now possess a functioning World Tree, which has effectively solved your people's mana addiction crisis. This removes one of the primary constraints that has limited elven expansion for generations. The possibility of southward expansion, "
"Is precisely what it has always been," Kael'thas interrupted, his voice carrying the steel that lurked beneath his diplomatic exterior. "A possibility, not an inevitability."
He rose from his chair and joined Antonidas at the map, his own finger tracing the ancient borders between Quel'Thalas and its human neighbors. "The High Elves and humans have maintained friendship and alliance for nearly three millennia. Our peoples have bled together on a hundred battlefields, shared knowledge that has advanced both our civilizations, and built trade relationships that have enriched every participant."
His voice grew warmer as he continued, "Conflict between our races would benefit neither side. The other kingdoms, Stormwind, Kul Tiras, Gilneas, have no territorial disputes with Quel'Thalas. Our borders do not touch theirs, our peoples compete in markets rather than battlefields."
The prince's expression grew pointed as he focused on Lordaeron's position on the map. "As for Lordaeron itself..."
He paused, allowing the weight of unspoken possibilities to settle between them. "So long as Lordaeron refrains from provocative actions, Quel'Thalas will never initiate hostilities. This has been our policy for generations, and it remains unchanged."
Antonidas leaned forward, pressing the crucial question. "Are you giving me your personal word that Quel'Thalas will not initiate warfare against human kingdoms?"
"No," Kael'thas replied with startling directness, "I make no such absolute promise."
The bluntness of the statement sent a chill through the chamber, but the prince continued before Antonidas could respond.
"National disputes encompass far more than military action, my friend. Economic pressure, diplomatic isolation, strategic alliances, these are all tools of statecraft that fall short of open warfare. I cannot bind my people to absolute pacifism when faced with threats to our survival or sovereignty."
His emerald eyes hardened as he delivered his final message. "Please convey this to King Terenas with absolute clarity: any foolish actions on his part will result in consequences he will bear alone. If his incompetence or aggression leads to conflict, the responsibility, and the blame, will rest solely on his shoulders."
The prince's diplomatic training showed as he modulated his tone, removing the sharp edge while maintaining the underlying firmness. "I trust that his political wisdom will prevent such unfortunate developments."
Antonidas nodded slowly, already composing the careful phrases he would use to convey such a pointed message without triggering the very crisis they sought to avoid. "I will deliver your words exactly as spoken. Whether he chooses to heed them..." He shrugged, acknowledging the limits of his influence over royal pride and political calculation.
"Wisdom and prudence have served Terenas well throughout his reign. Let us hope they continue to guide his decisions in these matters."
The Archmage gathered his traveling cloak, its fabric shimmering with protective enchantments woven by Dalaran's finest artificers. "I should return to Lordaeron immediately. The king will be expecting my report, and delay would only increase his suspicions."
After Antonidas departed through one of Dalaran's permanent portal networks, the great chamber fell into contemplative silence. But they were not alone for long.
From the shadows near the chamber's eastern wall, a figure emerged with the fluid grace of someone accustomed to moving unseen. The newcomer's elven features were aristocratic, his robes bearing the subtle markers of advanced magical training, but something in his demeanor suggested depths that extended far beyond scholarly pursuits.
"Your Majesty," Dar'Khan Drathir said, his voice carrying the honey-sweet tones of a natural tempter, "if circumstances should ever require decisive action against Quel'Thalas, I hope you will remember that certain... resources... remain available to you."
King Terenas, who had been maintaining a scrying connection to monitor the distant conversation, allowed his consciousness to refocus on the throne room where his physical form waited. The strain of long-distance magical surveillance showed in the lines around his eyes, but his political mind remained sharp as ever.
"Speak plainly, Dar'Khan. What exactly are you offering?"
The elven mage stepped closer, his expression mixing servility with barely concealed ambition. "I was Grand Magister Belo'vir's most accomplished student, Your Majesty. For decades, I studied the runestone network that protects and powers Quel'Thalas. I understand its weaknesses, its critical nodes, the precise methods required to disrupt or destroy it."
Dar'Khan's eyes gleamed with the fervor of someone who had spent years nursing grievances and planning revenge. "I can provide you with detailed maps of Silvermoon City's defenses, the locations of hidden passages that bypass the primary ward networks, the timing of guard rotations that have remained unchanged for centuries."
His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "With my assistance, a well-planned assault could penetrate the heart of elven territory before their defenses could respond. Silvermoon City itself could fall within days rather than months."
Terenas studied the elven mage with the calculating gaze that had served him through decades of political maneuvering. Dar'Khan's hatred for his own people was obvious, but such personal motivations could be both powerful and unreliable.
"And in exchange for this... assistance... what would you require?"
"The Sunwell," Dar'Khan replied without hesitation, his voice trembling with barely controlled avarice. "I ask for nothing else, no lands, no titles, no political power. Only access to the Sunwell's energies."
The mage's hands clenched into fists as he spoke, his careful composure slipping to reveal the desperate hunger beneath. "You would gain control of Sandar Hill, dominion over the World Tree, possession of the most fertile and strategically important territory on the continent. All I desire is the Sunwell itself."
Terenas remained silent for long moments, his expression unreadable. The offer was tempting in its simplicity, but he had not survived the complexities of royal politics by accepting such proposals at face value.
"Your terms are... noted," he said finally. "Should circumstances require such extreme measures, your offer will be given appropriate consideration."
High above Sandar Hill, where ancient branches intertwined with crystalline platforms and magical energies danced through living wood, Krasus prepared for a departure that would sever ties stretching back centuries.
The Red Dragon's mortal form stood at the edge of a platform that extended beyond the World Tree's protective canopy, offering an unobstructed view of the lands spreading toward every horizon. To the south, the golden towers of Lordaeron caught the afternoon sun like beacons of mortal ambition. To the east, the Wetlands stretched toward distant coasts where human ships carried trade and conflict in equal measure.
"Kael'thas," he said, turning to address the prince who had joined him for this final conversation, "I must take my leave of this place and these affairs. You are welcome to visit Wyrmrest Temple whenever circumstances permit, the ancient bonds between our peoples transcend current political complications."
His gaze lingered on the distant spires of Lordaeron, where scrying magics had revealed King Terenas in heated consultation with his advisors. "I pray that wisdom will prevail over ambition, that the High Elves and humans can find paths to coexistence that serve both peoples' interests."
Krasus's voice carried the weight of millennia spent watching civilizations rise and fall, witnessing the same cycles of cooperation and conflict repeated across ages. "The enemies gathering in shadow grow more numerous and more terrible with each passing year. The Burning Legion's agents work ceaselessly to corrupt and divide, while the Old Gods stir in their ancient prisons, sending whispers of madness to any who will listen."
The dragon-mage's expression grew distant as he perceived threats that extended far beyond the current political crisis. "Beyond even these familiar evils, powers from the Void itself probe the barriers between dimensions, seeking weaknesses they can exploit to bring about reality's complete unraveling."
He turned back to Kael'thas, his too-bright eyes reflecting urgent concern. "The various races of Azeroth should stand united against such cosmic threats, not waste their strength in petty territorial disputes. The High Elves and humans represent two of the most magically and militarily capable civilizations on this world."
"If these peoples were to turn their weapons against each other," Krasus concluded, his voice heavy with foreboding, "the resulting devastation would serve only the interests of those who wish to see all mortal civilizations reduced to ash and shadow."
Prince Kael'thas nodded, his own strategic mind grasping the broader implications of the current crisis. "Your concerns are well-founded, but I believe you underestimate King Terenas's political acumen. He is fundamentally a diplomat rather than a conqueror, a chess player who prefers to win through positioning rather than direct confrontation."
The prince's smile carried genuine confidence rather than mere bravado. "Even with overwhelming military advantage, seventy, eighty, even ninety percent certainty of victory, Terenas would hesitate to initiate open warfare. He understands that wars consume resources that could be better spent on internal development, that military victories often create more problems than they solve."
Kael'thas gestured toward Lordaeron's distant capital, where political maneuvering continued behind closed doors. "The king prefers to achieve his objectives through negotiation, economic pressure, and strategic alliances. Such methods may take longer than military conquest, but they create more stable and lasting results."
His assessment was based on years of careful observation and analysis. Terenas had built his kingdom's strength through trade agreements rather than territorial expansion, had resolved most international disputes through diplomacy rather than warfare. Even his current posturing likely represented an attempt to gain negotiating leverage rather than preparation for actual conflict.
As evening descended over Sandar Hill, the great construction project that would transform the World Tree's crown into a proper city center continued at an frenzied pace. The sound of hammers on stone, the chanting of earth-moving spells, and the coordinated efforts of workers from half a dozen races created a symphony of purposeful activity.
General Lirath Windrunner had arrived as promised, but her definition of "a few elite soldiers" proved somewhat elastic. The force that materialized through dimensional gateways included not just ten thousand veteran troops, but also their support staff, equipment, supplies, and even their families in some cases.
Several months had passed since the devastating campaign that had reduced the ancient troll stronghold of Zul'Aman to a conquered ruin. During those months, General Windrunner had transformed the former enemy capital into a forward base for continued operations against surviving Amani forces scattered throughout the region's mountainous terrain.
Using Zul'Aman's massive stone structures as her headquarters, she had directed a systematic campaign to eliminate organized troll resistance. Her rangers moved through the endless forests and hidden valleys like shadows, striking at enemy encampments before melting away into terrain they knew better than their enemies.
The results had exceeded even optimistic projections. The Amani Trolls' leadership structure had been virtually eliminated, their war chiefs and shamans either dead or scattered beyond hope of effective coordination. While over a hundred thousand trolls still survived in the deep wilderness, most were non-combatants, children, elders, artisans, and farmers who possessed neither the training nor the equipment to mount serious military resistance.
More importantly, the mountainous terrain that had once served as the trolls' greatest defensive advantage now worked against them. Isolated in small groups, unable to communicate or coordinate across vast distances, they had become prey rather than predators.
General Windrunner's assessment was coldly professional: two thousand elite soldiers would be more than sufficient to complete the pacification campaign. The remaining eight thousand could be redeployed to more pressing concerns.
The next morning, she implemented the second phase of her relocation strategy. Half the civilian population from traditional Windrunner territories began arriving through portal networks, bringing with them the skilled workers, craftsmen, and administrators needed to transform Sandar Hill into a functioning urban center.
Architects consulted ancient elven treatises on tree-city construction while human engineers provided expertise in large-scale infrastructure development. The fusion of magical and mundane building techniques produced innovations that would have seemed impossible to either tradition working alone.
Archmage Rommath coordinated the magical aspects of the construction project with characteristic precision. His thousand-mage workforce established runestone networks throughout the region, creating permanent portal connections between Sandar Hill's crown and the nearby mountain quarries.
The logistics were elegant in their simplicity: excavated stone could be transported directly from cutting sites to construction zones, eliminating the need for conventional transportation networks. Massive blocks that would normally require weeks of careful movement could be positioned precisely where needed within minutes of being cut from living rock.
The Green Dragons who had pledged their assistance proved invaluable in reshaping the World Tree's natural growth patterns. Working in concert with druids and nature-sworn rangers, they guided the tree's expansion in directions that would best support the planned city structure.
Ancient branches, some as thick as castle towers, began intertwining in complex patterns that resembled vast Celtic knots. Where a conventional city might require stone foundations and steel supports, Sandar Hill's buildings would rest on living architecture that grew stronger rather than weaker with the passage of time.
The integration was so complete that distinguishing between natural growth and magical guidance became impossible. The World Tree seemed to welcome the collaboration, its leaves growing more vibrant and its branches stronger as elven magic harmonized with its ancient life force.
That afternoon brought an unexpected complication in the form of Thane Kurdran Wildhammer and what appeared to be his entire clan. The Wildhammer contingent included not just the promised gryphon riders and their magnificent mounts, but also civilians, support personnel, equipment, and enough supplies to establish a permanent settlement.
Gryphon eggs, carefully cushioned in specially designed carrying cases, represented future generations of aerial cavalry. Mine carts, pickaxes, anvils, and portable furnaces indicated serious intentions regarding long-term resource extraction. Complete household furnishings suggested that many of the new arrivals had no intention of returning to their mountain fastnesses any time soon.
Kael'thas surveyed the organized chaos of the Wildhammer arrival with mixed emotions. While he appreciated the dwarves' legendary work ethic and their unmatched expertise in mining and metallurgy, the sheer scale of their relocation efforts raised serious logistical concerns.
"Who authorized this massive transportation operation?" he demanded, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to having his questions answered promptly and completely. "Archmage Rommath! I need an explanation!"
The senior mage appeared through the crowd with obvious reluctance, his robes showing the strain of coordinating multiple major magical workings simultaneously. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool mountain air, testament to the enormous energies he had been channeling throughout the day.
"Your Highness," he began, his excitement overriding his exhaustion, "Thane Kurdran brought payment for the transportation services in the form of adamantite chains, the very chains that were used to bind Alexstrasza during her captivity!"
The significance of such a gift struck Kael'thas immediately. Those chains represented more than mere wealth; they were artifacts of immense magical power, forged from materials that existed nowhere else in the known world. The adamantite alone was worth a kingdom's ransom, but the magical properties imbued during their creation made them essentially priceless.
"In that case," Kael'thas said, his expression transforming from annoyance to approval, "Rommath, you have exceeded my expectations. Well done!"
He lowered his voice conspiratorially, his politician's instincts already calculating the opportunities such unexpected wealth created. "Make sure to ask our generous benefactor if he requires additional transportation services. A twenty percent discount would be appropriate for such a valued client."
With his diplomatic face firmly in place, Kael'thas approached Thane Kurdran with the practiced grace of someone skilled in managing the egos and ambitions of potential allies.
"Thane Kurdran," he began, his tone carrying just the right mixture of warmth and curiosity, "I must say, this appears to be more than a simple military deployment. Have you decided to relocate your entire clan, or are you perhaps conducting an extended reconnaissance of Sandar Hill's attractions?"
Kurdran's weathered features creased into a grin that managed to be both sheepish and calculating. The dwarven leader had not achieved his position by backing down from challenges, but he recognized when diplomatic finesse was required.
"Your Highness, I hope you won't misunderstand our intentions. Every dwarf here has come to contribute to your city-building project. You need stone quarried for construction, and we are the finest stoneworkers in all of Khaz Modan!"
His enthusiasm was genuine, but Kael'thas had noticed the families, the household goods, the clear indicators of permanent relocation rather than temporary assistance.
"Look around you," Kurdran continued, gesturing toward his people as they organized their belongings with military precision. "Every one of them has brought the tools necessary to begin work immediately. We're not tourists, Your Highness, we're craftsmen ready to build something magnificent."
Kael'thas's pointed gaze toward the elderly, the pregnant women, and the obviously non-combatant civilians in the Wildhammer group prompted a moment of uncomfortable silence.
"Surely you don't expect me to believe that everyone in your group is here to quarry stone?"
"Well, no, not exactly," Kurdran admitted, his diplomatic composure cracking slightly. "The older folks have experience and wisdom to offer, they can supervise work crews, ensure quality control, train the younger workers in proper techniques."
He gestured toward the younger members of his clan. "The youth may not be ready for heavy stonework, but they can handle smaller materials, assist with transportation, learn valuable skills while contributing to the overall effort."
His voice grew even more strained as he addressed the most obvious contradiction in his claims. "As for the sick, the injured, the pregnant... well, they can... they can provide moral support? Handle administrative tasks? Maintain equipment?"
Finally, Kurdran's forced optimism collapsed entirely. His shoulders slumped as he abandoned pretense in favor of honest appeal.
"All right, all right. The truth is, I have a request, several requests, actually. We're hoping you might allow us to establish a small settlement here. Not necessarily on Sandar Hill itself, though that would be ideal, but somewhere in the vicinity."
His eyes brightened as he moved to more solid ground. "In exchange, we'll provide all the stonework for your city construction at no charge. The ore we smelt will be yours to keep or trade as you see fit. We've already identified several rare mineral deposits in the surrounding mountains that could provide tremendous value."
Kurdran's voice grew more confident as he outlined his proposal. "There's also the matter of oil deposits. We've heard about the successful extraction operations in Stratholme, and our geological surveys suggest similar resources exist in this region. We have the expertise to locate and extract such materials efficiently."
The dwarven leader's strategic thinking became clear as he continued. "The space atop Sandar Hill may be limited, but the surrounding area offers plenty of room for expansion. The flat lands to the east could support agricultural development, while the mountain regions would be perfect for our mining operations."
His proposal grew more elaborate as he warmed to the subject. "A dwarven settlement in the mountains could serve multiple purposes, resource extraction, border security, early warning against potential threats from the north or east. We'd essentially be providing a first line of defense for your new territory."
Kurdran's final argument appealed directly to mutual benefit. "This arrangement would serve everyone's interests. You'd gain skilled workers, valuable resources, and strategic defensive positioning. We'd have a new home closer to the World Tree's beneficial influences, especially important for our pregnant women and elderly clan members."
Kael'thas listened to the proposal with the practiced attention of someone accustomed to evaluating complex political bargains. The offer had merit, but the decision extended beyond his personal authority.