Following the Scourge forces' voluntary retreat and dormancy, the only undead still actively resisting are those remaining in Stratholme in the Eastern Plaguelands.
After the Frozen Throne suffered a remote attack from Illidan, a small portion of the more strong-willed undead within the Scourge managed to break free from the Lich King's control.
These free undead wandered aimlessly, facing merciless attacks from both their undead "brethren" in the Scourge and the living members of the Alliance.
Most of these undead, unwilling to provoke trouble, hid deep within the mountains and forests. An abandoned farm in the Eastern Plaguelands kindly welcomed these confused, free undead.
Maris Farm belongs to Darrowshire, Kingdom of Lordaeron.
The Maris Family residing here had been unremarkable farmers for generations, but an unexpected turning point occurred with the generation of Nathanos Blightcaller.
Since childhood, Nathanos had yearned to be a Ranger, moving freely through the mountains and forests. He was extremely interested in this combat profession unique to the High Elves.
To receive instruction from the High Elves, the young Nathanos disregarded his parents' objections and resolutely embarked on a journey of study.
When Nathanos entered the Amani Forest, the High Elves had not yet undergone Kael'thas' open reform, and Quel'Thalas still maintained a policy of external isolation.
A human of a Short-lived race actually wanting to learn the way of the High Elven Ranger—Nathanos faced relentless ridicule and sarcasm from many High Elves when he first sought instruction.
The mentally resilient Nathanos did not give up easily due to these setbacks; he had long been prepared for the stubborn and arrogant nature of the High Elves.
Nathanos' relentless persistence moved a high-ranking Ranger military officer—she was none other than the current Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner.
Sylvanas took Nathanos as her disciple and meticulously taught him the way of the Ranger.
As it turned out, Nathanos was very talented in the path of the Ranger and worked hard enough.
Within just a few years, he mastered the essence of the Ranger, and Sylvanas announced that he could graduate.
Since the master and disciple belonged to different races, the Ranger-General could not arrange a military post for Nathanos within the High Elven Ranger Corps. Nathanos' future development had to be achieved step by step on his own.
After Quel'Thalas fell into internal turmoil, Nathanos left the Amani Forest, preparing to return home to serve his own country.
When Nathanos returned to Maris Farm, his parents were unfortunately bedridden, having contracted the Plague.
Nathanos traveled throughout the entire Eastern Wilds, but the misery across the land made him increasingly desperate.
Even the priests at Lights Hope Chapel could not cure this new type of Plague; they were urgently researching targeted treatments for it.
However, the rate at which this Plague developed far exceeded the priests' imagination. Before they could devise a cure, the infected populace began dying in large numbers, including Nathanos' parents.
After burying his parents, the grieving Nathanos temporarily lost the will to serve his country and remained on the farm inherited from his parents, living a life that was barely peaceful.
Good times did not last; those who had died from the Plague strangely crawled out of their graves. Nathanos, weeping, pierced his parents' skulls with arrows, extinguishing their souls' fires.
The rampant Plague spread from the Eastern Wilds across the entire Kingdom of Lordaeron. Maris Farm, which Nathanos guarded, also fell under the assault of countless Scourge Undead. The human Ranger died at the hands of a massive Abomination—Ramstein the Gorger.
When Nathanos awoke from the endless darkness, his body and soul were no longer under his control, forced to obey the Lich King and his minions.
Unable to break free from the Lich King's shackles, he could only follow the Scourge as they fought across various regions, but Nathanos never gave up the struggle to regain his freedom.
Finally, his efforts were rewarded.
The Lich King's shackles weakened, and Nathanos, who had been preparing for a long time, broke through the Lich King's control in one fell swoop, reclaiming his sanity.
But looking at his pale, grayish skin and lifeless body, Nathanos once again fell into confusion.
What am I, where should I go, and what is my purpose?
Nathanos' situation was not unique; all the free undead who suddenly broke away from the Lich King's control shared the same confusion.
As undead, they were rejected by the living, and the Scourge would also attack these "traitors" without hesitation.
After a long journey, Nathanos returned to Maris Farm, which had been abandoned for years. The land, tainted by the Plague, could no longer grow any crops.
Having no clue about the future, Nathanos could only hide inside the dilapidated, neglected farmhouse with the two Plague Hounds he had tamed, carefully surviving in the cracks between the passing Scourge and the living.
As more and more free undead frantically fled to the vicinity, Nathanos realized that he was not the only one who had broken free from the Lich King's control.
Using the large farmhouse left by his parents, he welcomed these genuine compatriots into his home for shelter.
The undead did not require food or water, but they needed Preservatives to prevent the flesh on their bodies from rotting and falling off.
Undead with flesh possessed greater combat effectiveness than mere skeletons. Previously, within the Scourge, the Lich King would centrally allocate Preservatives to his subordinates to maintain their fighting capability.
Nathanos was a Ranger, and even after dying and becoming undead, the knowledge he had learned would not be easily forgotten.
His mentor, Sylvanas Windrunner, had taught him how to identify the medicinal properties of forest herbs. Guided by an undead Alchemist, Nathanos led the undead hiding inside Maris Farm to cautiously venture out and gather herbs for refining Preservatives.
For the free undead constantly running and hiding, Maris Farm was like a secluded paradise in a troubled world. The number of undead gathering here grew, gradually attracting the attention of the Scourge and the Scarlet Crusade.
Nathanos did not want conflict with the Scourge or the living, but to protect this hard-won sanctuary, Nathanos could only pick up his Ranger Warbow and lead his Plague Hounds and subordinates in fierce resistance.
With the Lich King and Kel'Thuzad having fled, the density of the remaining Scourge Undead greatly decreased, leaving Nathanos and his group with only one enemy to face: the Scarlet Crusade.
The Scarlet Crusade was a fighting organization splintered from the most radical members of the Silver Hand. They fanatically sought to eliminate all undead. No matter how earnestly Nathanos tried to explain, these Crusaders had no intention of talking peacefully with him.
Left with no choice, Nathanos found himself trapped in a vicious cycle of long-term combat against the Scarlet Crusade.
As the reputation of Maris Farm expanded further, the number of free undead coming to join them increased steadily.
To suppress this strange group of undead who had claimed the territory as their own, the number of soldiers dispatched by the Scarlet Crusade also increased, and the relentless fighting between the two sides intensified.
When Andreas heard about this group of undead with strange patterns of behavior, his expression became peculiar.
'The Forsaken? I didn't expect them to appear in another form, even after the Capital City of Lordaeron was reclaimed, but...'
Squinting his eyes and rubbing his chin, he mused, 'Nathanos Blightcaller? I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before. Is it just my imagination?'
The number of Free Undead led by Nathanos grew larger and larger; Marris Stead could no longer accommodate the more than one hundred thousand undead.
To settle his fellow undead who came to seek refuge, Nathanos had no choice but to expand his sphere of influence, occupying the abandoned Crown Guard Tower and Darrowshire for the Free Undead to reside in.
Nathanos' expansionist actions made the Scarlet Crusade once again prioritize the extermination of this group of undead.
The reserve forces stationed at Tyrs Hand were mobilized, taking up positions at Lordaeron Crossing to face Nathanos' undead army from a distance.
When the Argent Dawn learned of this group of undead whose behavior differed from the Scourge, they also sent scouts to investigate. The conclusions they reached greatly surprised the leader of the Argent Dawn, Maxwell Tyrosus.
"Are you sure these undead can be communicated with?"
Argent Dawn Commander Ashlam Valorfist nodded solemnly. "This is the conclusion reached by that reclusive lord after long-term observation. Although I also find it somewhat incredible, I am willing to trust his judgment."
"So it was that lord's opinion."
The one-eyed Tyrosus said knowingly, "In that case... Mardonier."
A middle-aged human priestess stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, please give your orders."
"Temporarily serve as a diplomat to contact the Scarlet Crusade. Inform them of the situation and persuade them to suspend their attacks on the undead at Crown Guard Tower."
"Yes."
After High Priestess Mardonier left, Ashlam asked with some uncertainty, "Maxwell, are you sure those fanatical lunatics will listen to our advice?"
"I'm not sure," Tyrosus said with a bitter smile. "But we have to try anyway."
"Currently, the Scarlet Crusade is facing a two-front war. The predicament in Stratholme is enough to give them a headache, and now they have to deal with a group of undead that act strangely but are not very aggressive."
"Old Abdis should be having a headache right now. Although the Scarlet Crusade is elite, they don't have the spare capacity to wage a two-front war."
"If we can stabilize those undead with self-will through diplomacy and negotiation, we can at least allow that old stubborn Alfred to concentrate his forces on attacking Stratholme, which is occupied by the Scourge."
The Abdis Tyrosus spoke of was not the naive Bridget most players know, who was fooled by a Dreadlord, but her father, Alfred Abdis, the first High General of the Scarlet Crusade.
Although he was prepared for it, General Abdis' tough response still made Tyrosus pat his forehead helplessly.
"We don't need you cowards to worry about us. Get back to your chapel and continue farming!"
The Scarlet Crusade gathered the most radical members of the Silver Hand who wanted revenge against the undead, and High General Abdis was the best among them.
He was one of the subordinates Uther valued most during his lifetime. While the leader of the Scarlet Crusade, Saidan Dathohan, was away commanding troops, Abdis, who remained at Tyrs Hand, was the one who called the shots.
"What a mess..."
Tyrosus leaned back in his chair and raised his hand to rub his brow. "Fighting on two fronts will inevitably weaken the forces originally intended for the attack on Stratholme. That old stubborn man couldn't possibly fail to realize even this, right?"
High Priestess Mardonier, who had been sprayed with saliva by Abdis, looked very unhappy. She sneered, "He certainly knows the dangers of a two-front war; he just can't let go of the Scarlet Crusade's slogan of exterminating all undead, so he can only brace himself and charge forward."
Tyrosus shook his head speechlessly. "Forget it, let him be. Let's focus on our own affairs first."
"How is the recovery of the land near the chapel? Can crops be planted yet?"
"Yes, the soil fertility has basically been restored, but the efficiency of using the Holy Light to purify the plague in the earth is consistently low and needs further improvement."
...Just as Mardonier said, both Nathanos and Abdis were currently in a difficult position.
One side had to ensure a safe foothold for his subordinates, while the other was bound by the Scarlet Crusade's oath and could not turn a blind eye to these undead.
Andreas arrived in the Eastern Plaguelands under this background.
Many years ago, Andreas had been to the Eastern Wilds.
At that time, this land was covered with lush green grass and dense vegetation, but now only unsightly red and yellow soil and completely withered, bare tree trunks remained.
After dealing with Garithos, the date for Lordaeron's restoration ceremony had been set for January 1st, Year 21 of the Dark Portal, six months from now.
With a new year comes a new atmosphere, and Jaina decided to use this grand restoration ceremony to call upon the people of Lordaeron hiding in the mountains and forests to return to their homeland.
Although Jaina wanted to keep Rhonin by her side to help her, Rhonin, who suddenly had a fiancée fall from the sky, had no such plans for the time being.
This sudden feeling was like a fledgling bird opening its eyes and treating the first creature it sees as its parent; Rhonin always found it hard to accept.
Ignoring the persuasion of Antonidas and Jaina, he insisted on leaving Lordaeron on the pretext of going out to clear his head.
As a high-level mage capable of teleporting all over the world, if Rhonin was determined to leave, no one could stop him unless they set up a barrier like a magic-dampening field or a spatial anchor.
Perhaps to avoid Jaina's pursuit, or perhaps still stubbornly wanting to pursue Vereesa, Rhonin teleported to Kalimdor through several transfers, and his first stop was Mount Hyjal, which had basically completed its post-war reconstruction.
Unfortunately, Vereesa's sense of novelty toward the human mage had long since dissipated, and she gradually understood Rhonin's intentions in repeatedly trying to get close to her.
In this life, without the emotional foundation of sharing hardships together, Vereesa kept her mother's and two sisters' teachings in mind and deliberately distanced herself from Rhonin, hiding in the embassy and claiming to be busy.
Rhonin was very smart, and Vereesa's polite refusal was already very clear. He could only leave Nordrassil in disappointment, planning to travel around this unfamiliar continent to clear his head.
As it turned out, this trip led to trouble. Rhonin encountered a sandstorm in the Tanaris desert and had no choice but to find a cave in the dunes to take shelter.
But when he stepped out of the cave again, the scene before him had undergone a subtle change.
Although the Tanaris desert where Rhonin had been before still had large-scale desert areas, many places along the way already had oases, and the desert environment of Tanaris seemed to be improving.
Yet the Tanaris desert he saw now stretched as far as the eye could see, with nothing but yellow sand in sight.
Almost at the same time, Broxigar, who was in Northrend, also suddenly disappeared while following Go'el out for a hunt.
When he walked out of the forest that had suddenly appeared before him with a bewildered expression, a group of Night Elves dressed very simply, with weapons clearly lacking mana-conductive energy, rushed out of the woods and surrounded him.
Broxigar: "???"
...At this time, Andreas did not yet know about the encounters of Rhonin, Broxigar, or even Krasus. After arriving in the Eastern Plaguelands, he first transformed into a Golden Eagle and flew north along the Sodrial River, discovering a small, dilapidated hut on the bank of the upper reaches of the river.
The hut was in shambles, with wind leaking from all sides, and it didn't look like anyone lived there, but the old yellow horse with mottled fur at the door proved that someone was inside.
"Knock knock~ Sorry to disturb you, is anyone in?"
Andreas knocked on the hut's nearly rotting door. Without paying attention, he used too much force, and his fingers knocked two cracks into the door panel.
"Uh~"
Just as Andreas looked at these two small cracks speechlessly, an old and hearty laugh came from inside the door.
"Haha! Don't worry about it. This hut has been out of repair for years; it's normal for something to go wrong. The door isn't locked; if you don't mind the simplicity, please come in."
Creak~
Pushing open the door, the extremely simple furniture arrangement inside the hut was presented before Andreas' eyes.
A very clean old bed, a set of table and chairs for dining, and no other furniture.
A middle-aged to elderly man with half-white hair and a weathered face sat upright in a chair, welcoming the visitor with a gentle smile.
But when he saw the visitor's face clearly, the words of welcome that were already on the tip of his tongue suddenly got stuck.
"...Speaker Moonshadow?"
"Long time no see, Tirion. How have you been these past few years?"
Andreas leaned against the simple wall inside the cabin, waving to a startled Tirion.
Tirion Fordring recovered and shook his head with a smile. "Neither good nor bad. Although the reclusive life is poor, it at least made me understand some things."
Andreas and Tirion first met during the Second War against the Orcs more than a decade ago. Their relationship wasn't particularly close; they had only chatted a few times during lulls in battle.
Nevertheless, they were old acquaintances reunited after many years. Tirion looked at Andreas' still youthful face, then reached up to touch his own weathered features.
"Only when one gradually grows old can they truly understand the meaning of the term 'Long-lived race.' So many years have passed, and Speaker Moonshadow appears completely unchanged."
Andreas shrugged indifferently. Having witnessed countless joys and sorrows of the Short-lived race, he was long accustomed to such sentiments.
"I'm not here to see you on official business this time, so don't be so formal. Just call me by my name."
There were no seats for guests inside the cabin, so Tirion simply got up, led Andreas outside, and they sat by the Sodrial River to talk at length.
"The Scourge rebellion in Lordaeron should have subsided by now, right? Was Garithos dealt with?"
Andreas raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't expected Tirion to have such well-informed intelligence channels even in seclusion.
"Garithos is no longer an issue. Lordaeron will hold its restoration ceremony early next year."
"Lordaeron is eager to rebuild, and it's a time when talent is needed. Aren't you considering coming out of retirement? You're not going to decide to live out your days in the mountains at just over 40, are you?"
Tirion was silent for a few seconds before shaking his head. "I was personally expelled by Commander Uther. Even though he's no longer here, I can't bring myself to brazenly return to Lordaeron to serve."
There wasn't much decoration around Tirion's cabin, but the Plague's corruption had long been dispelled, and uneven green grass had already regrown on the ground.
Pulling out a small blade of grass from the ground, Andreas twirled the not-so-green leaf, casually asking Tirion, "So, you regret saving that Orc back then?"
Tirion shook his head firmly. "Of course not. Years of seclusion have only made me more certain of my decision."
"Race does not represent honor. We should not make hasty judgments about beings different from ourselves."
"I've seen many humans more despicable than the Scourge Undead, and I've personally seen Orcs nobler than some Paladins. I will not regret letting Eitrigg go."
Andreas smiled, tossing the blade of grass into the ceaselessly flowing Sodrial River. The drifting wild grass was quickly carried downstream by the waves.
"Then what are you hesitating about? If your conscience is clear, why not prove to those who doubted you that you were right through your actions?"
Tirion gazed at the distant, faintly visible, towering Hearthglen castle, sighing softly. "While I don't regret letting Eitrigg go, I deeply regret the harm my reckless actions caused my wife and child."
"Andreas, you should understand that at my position back then, my every action represented more than just myself."
"If I were alone, I could indeed return to Lordaeron with a clear conscience, but..."
Tirion hesitated, speaking with some confusion. "Before I left, I specifically instructed my wife to tell Taelan that his father had died."
"What would Taelan think if his old father, who died years ago bearing a reputation of shame, suddenly appeared before him? Would he be ashamed of me and refuse to accept my existence?"
Andreas looked speechlessly at Tirion beside him, who had entered 'Doting Dad' mode. "...I think you're overthinking it."
Patting the dust off his backside and standing up from the riverbank, Andreas raised his chin and pointed towards Hearthglen. "There's a blood connection between you and Taelan after all. Do you think your son would be someone who can't distinguish right from wrong? Besides..."
Andreas looked meaningfully at Tirion. "Since you have such well-informed intelligence channels, it proves you're not truly indifferent to the outside situation, right?"
"Are you comfortable letting Taelan manage the territory alone? What if someone with ill intentions takes advantage of the situation and indoctrinates him with evil ideas?"
"This..."
Andreas' words struck Tirion's biggest fear. A parent's heart is always tender; even a hero like Tirion couldn't ignore the bonds of family.
"...Let me think about it more."
Tirion's expression was very troubled, clearly Andreas' persuasion had worked.
"Alright, let's not talk about that for now."
Andreas had no intention of pressuring Tirion; he just felt it would be a pity for this First Generation Paladin to remain in seclusion.
Seeing that Tirion was temporarily undecided, he tactfully changed the subject.
"What are your thoughts on the Undead at Crown Watchtower and Maris Farm?"
Maris Farm was very close to the Sodrial River where Tirion was living in seclusion. Andreas didn't believe Tirion could resist observing them.
With the topic shifted, Tirion's thoughts quickly returned to the main point. "That's also what I wanted to mention to you."
"After half a year of observation, these Undead, whose behavior is distinctly different from The Scourge, possess self-will. They are not directly controlled by the Lich King."
"I watched this Undead force grow from nothing. From beginning to end, they have not actively shown any clear hostility towards the living."
"If their numbers hadn't expanded beyond what Maris Farm could accommodate, they might not have risked further alarming the Scarlet Crusade by expanding their territory."
"I believe that if we can provide them with enough living space, these Undead should be able to reach a peaceful resolution through negotiation."
Andreas nodded thoughtfully. The emergence and timing of the free Undead were quite different from the Forsaken led by the Banshee Queen, and Andreas wasn't entirely sure of their true nature.
Tirion's character and judgment were absolutely trustworthy. Since he gave these free Undead a good evaluation, Andreas was willing to trust his assessment.
"Andreas... no, Speaker Moonshadow."
Tirion bowed solemnly to Andreas. "I hope you can use your status and influence to mediate the conflict between these Undead, who show little desire to attack, and the Scarlet Crusade, and redirect the Crusade's main attack target towards The Scourge in Stratholme."
Many members of the Scarlet Crusade were Tirion's old colleagues and subordinates from his time, and he didn't want the legacy of the Silver Hand to be wasted in unnecessary places.
Andreas smiled and helped Tirion up. "I can't guarantee whether my old face will be recognized by the Scarlet Crusade, but I will try my best."
"Next, I plan to personally observe those strangely behaving Undead. Do you have any impression of their leader?"
"Yes."
Tirion nodded after straightening up. "Nathanos Marris, heir to Maris Farm, a native of the Eastern Wilds."
"He was the first true Ranger among humans, unfortunately killed during The Scourge's attack on Maris Farm, and by force of circumstance, unexpectedly became the leader of these Undead..."
"Wait a minute!"
Andreas caught a crucial piece of information and immediately stopped Tirion's explanation.
"You said he was the first human Ranger? Did he ever study in Quel'Thalas?"
"That's right." Tirion was a little puzzled by Andreas' focus. "It is said that he learned the way of the Ranger from the current Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner. After graduating, he returned to his hometown just as The Scourge Plague was raging."
"Alright."
Andreas finally remembered who the name Nathanos belonged to.
Nathanos the Blightcaller, the Dark Queen's most trusted champion in the original timeline.
'Is this a timeline convergence? This time, the Blightcaller isn't the Banshee Queen's champion, but has become the leader of the Forsaken himself?'
As the Dark Lady's most trusted champion, the Blightcaller's reputation was well-known, but Andreas truly didn't know that his surname as a human was Marris.
Finally knowing the identity of the leader of the Free Undead, Andreas did not relax; instead, he became more vigilant.
In the original history, this Blightcaller was "famous," loyally helping the Banshee Queen do many dirty and unscrupulous things.
Although it is a bit unfair to criticize someone now for things that haven't happened yet in the future, Andreas' memory at least showed that Nathanos had a possibility of following the old path, and that possibility was greater than others.
Undead were originally unnatural species produced by twisting life. For now, they were too busy with survival to care, but once Nathanos led the Free Undead to gain a foothold, the innate hatred of the undead for the living would likely be slowly unleashed.
After becoming undead, most of the emotions and desires from life are lost. They cannot enjoy fine food and wine, cannot feel warmth and comfort from a partner, and all the sensations possessed by the living completely disappear.
There might not be any problems in the short term, but one thing needs to be noted: the undead have no lifespan limit and lack any form of entertainment. Who knows where they will direct their enthusiasm for life during the long years.
For example... personally committing murders, joyfully watching life slip away, and using that to vent their jealousy of the living?
Of course, this was all Andreas' speculation. He hadn't died, so he couldn't truly experience the feelings of the dead.
If they played Gwent and Hearthstone in their spare time to pass the time, maybe the crime rate of the undead could be significantly reduced?
Tirion couldn't decide for the moment whether to come out of retirement, and Andreas didn't force him. Bidding farewell to the troubled Tirion, he turned back into a Golden Eagle and flew into the sky... At the same time, at the downstream outlet of the Sodrial River near Lake Darrowmere, a thin woman in black robes was staring blankly at Caer Darrow in the middle of the lake.
From this position, the Barov Family's mansion could be seen from afar.
The Barov Family, already as wealthy as a nation, reinforced their ancestral home again after ascending to the throne. At this time, the Barov Manor could be completely seen as a castle.
As the saying goes, there is no family affection in the royal family.
Although this saying is somewhat absolute, there is no smoke without fire.
At least Jandice Barov had personally witnessed the accuracy of this saying. Her two brothers, who originally had a decent relationship, were increasingly engaged in overt and covert struggles for the position of crown prince, reaching a point of irreconcilable conflict.
Jandice had returned to her hometown to recover from the psychological trauma caused by Arthas' fall, but the foul atmosphere at home made it impossible for her to stay any longer.
Taking advantage of the Alliance's reclamation of the Western Plaguelands, she came to revisit the place where she had enjoyed the lakeside scenery with her parents and brothers as a child, trying to recall the once-harmonious family relationships.
Originally, Jaina intended to accompany Jandice to relax, but Antonidas suddenly grabbed the Princess of Kul Tiras and began to instill a series of secret knowledge of Dalaran in her.
The dizzy Jaina had no choice but to cancel her scheduled itinerary and follow Master Antonidas to learn new knowledge.
Jandice was, after all, a member of the Alterac royalty, so she inevitably needed guards when traveling.
Besides the close female guards Alex arranged for his daughter, Taelan Fordring, as the local lord, was also ordered by Princess Calia to send people to protect Princess Jandice's safety, ensuring she wouldn't be disturbed by the undead wreaking havoc in the Eastern Plaguelands recently.
After the Second War, the Fordring Family, relying on the prestige of Tirion, a first-generation paladin, once became the most popular nobles in the Western Wilds.
But as Tirion was expelled from the Silver Hand for rescuing an orc, Taelan and his mother truly experienced the fickleness of human nature.
The small nobles who used to follow them and flatter them changed their attitudes one by one, and cooperation with the Fordring Family was also pushed away using various excuses.
Today, although the Fordring Family still owns the massive Hearthglen, it has undoubtedly weakened significantly compared to its peak.
Taelan's act of raising troops to support the crown left a good impression on Jaina. After carefully reading the Fordring Family's records, Jaina decided to reinstate Taelan.
Although Tirion was once convicted for releasing an orc, he had long since paid the price for his actions.
Including Jaina, many people thought this overly upright paladin had long since passed away. Lordaeron, which was in a state of reconstruction, was in need of talent, and Taelan, who was loyal to the royal family and possessed an upright and resolute character, was a rare and excellent noble and general in Lordaeron at the moment.
Taelan was very grateful for Princess Calia's high regard, but he did not change his daily habits because of regaining royal recognition.
By the time Taelan grew up, the Fordring Family had already begun to decline, and he was used to doing many things himself.
Taelan didn't feel comfortable leaving the important task of protecting Princess Jandice to his subordinates, so he simply took on the job himself as usual.
Seeing Jandice staring blankly at the distant Barov Castle, Taelan suggested bluntly, "Princess, the wind by the lake is strong. Staying too long isn't good for your health. Why don't we look elsewhere?"
Jolted awake by Taelan's words, Jandice managed a forced smile. "Alright, let's... hmm?"
The water in the upper reaches of the Sodrial River is quite turbulent, but by the time it reaches the lower reaches, the flow rate has already slowed significantly.
Jandice unexpectedly saw a half-yellow, half-green blade of grass in the slowly flowing river.
"Is that... green grass?"
Jandice was quite surprised. Given the current tragic state of the Plaguelands, it was logically impossible for green grass to appear.
Noticing Jandice's gaze, Taelan stepped forward to the riverbank and scooped up the lonely blade of grass.
Shaking off the water droplets on the grass, Taelan reached out to hand it to Jandice.
But when he saw the name carved on the blade of grass, the hand that should have been incredibly steady while holding a sword suddenly trembled.
"Tirion."
"This..."
Taelan apologized to Jandice and hurriedly brought the grass close to his eyes to inspect it.
'It can't be wrong; this is indeed my father's name. But why would a name be carved on this little blade of grass floating down from upstream?'
Looking up towards the upper reaches of the Sodrial River in confusion, Taelan suddenly felt an impulse to explore along the river.
After taking the grass from Taelan's hand, Jandice also saw the name carved on it.
The case of Tirion Fordring releasing an orc was a major scandal at the time, and the Barov Family, neighbors to the Western Wilds, had certainly heard of it.
"Count Fordring, let's go upstream and take a look."
Jandice was also somewhat curious about the situation upstream of the Sodrial River; she wanted to know how this green grass had appeared.
If this secret could be solved, it might play an important role in the reconstruction of the Western Wilds, which was covered in blighted land.
Alterac also had territory in the Western Wilds south of Andorhal, and the issue of managing the plague was also related to the interests of the Kingdom of Alterac.
Taelan asked with some hesitation, "Is that alright? Your Highness doesn't need to worry about my private affairs. I..."
"That's not it."
Jandice, her face looking a bit haggard, shook her head with a smile. "I'm just considering the future of the Western Wilds and acting for the interests of the Kingdom of Alterac and the Barov Family. We can consider it a mutual benefit."
Taelan, who had a rather straightforward personality, was stunned for a moment. After a while, he sighed with a bitter smile, "Alright, thank you for your understanding, Princess. Let's set off then."
The Golden Eagle circling above them showed a human-like cunning smile on its face, finally flapping its wings and flying towards Darrowshire with peace of mind.
'Tirion, it is the will of heaven. You should just honestly accept your fate.'
While Andreas was searching for Tirion upstream on the Sodoneal River, he unexpectedly spotted an anomaly by Darrowmere Lake from high above: a group of fully armored "tin cans" had appeared by the lake.
Full plate armor wasn't something everyone could wear; typically, only high-ranking knights or the personal guards of great nobles had the means to purchase such expensive equipment.
Gazing at the center of the group of "tin cans," Andreas quickly saw the black-robed mage and the silver-armored paladin standing by the lake, lost in thought.
Although Jandice looked thinner than when they last met in Kalimdor, her appearance and demeanor hadn't changed much, and Andreas quickly recognized her.
As for Taelan, the prominent Fording family crest on his chest armor clearly displayed his identity.
Since he had inadvertently discovered their whereabouts, Andreas decided to take advantage of the situation, making some arrangements upstream to reveal Tirion's location to Taelan, thus facilitating the "fateful" reunion of father and son.
Watching the two, after some hesitation and discussion, head north along the river, Andreas was satisfied and changed direction, continuing his flight towards Darrowshire.
Darrowshire was once a very prosperous region in the Eastern Weald. Due to its western border being adjacent to Darrowmere Lake, it could gain a considerable income from shipping trade with the Barov family.
Additionally, as it was located on the main connecting route between the Eastern and Western Wealds, Darrowshire's annual tax contributions, although not comparable to the great city of Stratholme to the north, were still quite substantial for Lordaeron.
When Andreas arrived at what was once the administrative center of Darrowshire, the former hustle and bustle were long gone.
There were many undead roaming inside and outside the dilapidated houses. In front of the central square, where the fountain had long stopped spraying water, a group of undead reserve soldiers could be seen receiving training from an instructor, with many idle undead watching nearby.
The undead don't need to eat or sleep, so they don't have to worry about their daily livelihood. They have plenty of time to do whatever they want.
Undead were scattered in twos and threes throughout Darrowshire, most without any goal or motivation, just sitting idly on the ground, staring at the 황토-colored sky of the Eastern Plaguelands.
The appearance of the golden eagle was quickly noticed by the undead in the town, drawing the attention of some of them.
The Eastern Plaguelands were no longer suitable for animal life; the occasional deer and bear seen there were driven mad by the plague's contamination.
The most common birds in the Eastern Plaguelands were scavenging vultures, and the majestic raptor in the sky was clearly not the kind of annoying bird that would look for an opportunity to land and tear at the flesh of the undead.
As Andreas observed from above, Darrowshire was not only home to a large number of undead with physical bodies but also many ghosts that still maintained their human form.
Both were the deceased, and they seemed to get along quite well, as most Scourge undead were human in life, perhaps even residents of Darrowshire itself.
Andreas also saw the ghost of a little girl, holding a dirty-looking translucent doll in one hand, and holding the hand of a middle-aged male ghost with the other, a naive and lively smile always on her face.
"That doll… could this child be Pamela?"
The golden eagle focused its gaze on the male ghost, whose face was full of doting affection. From their interaction, he appeared to be the little girl's father.
"It seems Narthanos leading the undead here isn't entirely a bad thing."
Andreas mused, "Did they inadvertently fulfill Pamela's wish?"
As an MMORPG, World of Warcraft subjects players to countless quests during their leveling process, but only a few leave a deep impression.
Even after ten thousand years, Andreas still retained memories of the story of Darrowshire and Pamela.
This little one died in the Scourge's rampage, but perhaps due to her young age, she couldn't grasp the concept of death, and she herself had no real sense of her own demise.
Pamela's surname was Redpath, and her father's name was Joseph, the captain of Darrowshire's militia and a hero in little Pamela's eyes.
Unfortunately, Joseph Redpath was just one of countless ordinary soldiers in Lordaeron; he didn't possess the unrivaled power Pamela imagined.
The Scourge general who attacked Darrowshire was a Death Knight named Marduk.
Although Joseph bravely fought alongside the Knights of the Silver Hand defending Darrowshire, facing the overwhelming numerical superiority of the Scourge, it was ultimately futile.
Davi Croford, the Silver Hand paladin squad leader, was the first to be engulfed by the Scourge's undead horde. Before his death, he used all his strength to kill a Ghoul King.
No one survived in Darrowshire after it was overrun by the Scourge. Joseph died bravely and was later resurrected with his soul twisted by the Death Knight Marduk, becoming one of the countless Scourge undead.
Whether alive or dead, Pamela never knew her father had already died and fallen. She stubbornly waited in Darrowshire for her father to return.
Marduk did not resurrect everyone who died in Darrowshire. Due to his mission from the Lich King, he only reanimated the fallen warriors.
Most of the souls of Darrowshire's deceased citizens were bound to the town, aimlessly wandering within it, seemingly maintaining their habits from life.
Andreas didn't know what Narthanos did after leading the undead to settle, but it seemed Darrowshire's problems were successfully resolved. The local ghosts and undead lived together naturally, and Pamela finally got her dad back.
The golden eagle circled above Darrowshire, eavesdropping on the undead in the town as they conversed with their hoarse, broken vocal cords.
The undead were mostly silent. Apart from the occasional habitual shouts from the soldiers training in the square, the atmosphere in the town was very somber.
It was a while before Andreas heard the information he wanted: the leader of the free undead, Narthanos, was stationed further east at the Crown Guard Tower, maintaining a standoff with the Scarlet Crusade at Corin's Crossing.
When both sides had fewer troops, the Scarlet Crusade could attack without restraint, but now Narthanos' undead numbers had far exceeded Abidis' expectations.
Tens of thousands of combat-ready undead put immense pressure on Abidis. All the reserve soldiers from Tyr's Hand had been brought over, but it was obvious they were not strong fighters, being untrained.
The population of the Western Plaguelands couldn't sustain a two-front war. Although Abidis adopted a firm, decisive stance, he had been hesitant to commit these rookie soldiers to battle against the undead.
The opponent's prolonged inaction, while puzzling to Narthanos, was exactly what he wanted.
Keeping his undead in check, preventing them from provoking skirmishes, Narthanos persistently went to the outskirts of Corin's Crossing every day to shoot.
Not to attack, but to shoot letters of reconciliation into the town, hoping to resolve this unnecessary war.
When Andreas flew over the dilapidated Crown Guard Tower, he finally saw Narthanos, the leader of the free undead.
The human ranger wore tattered leather armor and looked no different from an ordinary undead, but his neatly trimmed, characteristic beard allowed Andreas to recognize him.
Andreas looked at the other undead around him, then stared at Narthanos, his mind full of questions.
"By the way, how do undead grow beards?"
Although Nathanos' beard made Andreas' desire to complain surge, for now, he could only suppress his curiosity and quietly observe the military appearance and discipline of the Undead army from above.
Andreas had originally thought that this ragtag group of Undead would perform poorly, but contrary to his expectations, the temporary Undead army assembled under Nathanos' deployment actually looked quite decent.
"The first Human Ranger?"
Andreas stood thoughtfully on a withered tree, watching Nathanos, who was coordinating the overall situation.
Abdis, constrained by fear of collateral damage, dared not send the new recruits onto the battlefield. Once this last reserve force was broken, the Undead could even drive straight in and attack Tyrs Hand.
Before Andreas arrived, Abdis, unable to withstand the pressure, had already informed the Scarlet Crusade leader on the northern front, Saidan Dathohan, of the predicament facing Tyrs Hand, and was awaiting his reply.
Personally, Abdis did not want to start a war with Nathanos without adequate preparation.
However, the slogan raised when the Scarlet Crusade was founded was to seek revenge against the Scourge Undead and reclaim the territory of Lordaeron. Those who joined the Scarlet Crusade were members of the Silver Hand who harbored deep hatred for the Undead.
If they were afraid to fight, it would likely damage the morale of the Crusaders. The atmosphere in Lordaeron Crossing was already unstable, with some inexperienced rookie soldiers constantly shouting about going to the battlefield to tear the Undead apart with their bare hands.
Fortunately, steady sergeants were suppressing them, otherwise, these boastful talkers who had never seen the Undead with their own eyes would probably be scared pale by the Undead's "appetizing" appearance on the first day they charged onto the battlefield.
After several days of observing Nathanos, Andreas tentatively concluded that, regardless of the reason, this Undead leader truly did not want to provoke a war right now.
Every day, he persistently wrote letters of reconciliation, secretly advancing outside Lordaeron Crossing, tying the letters to arrows, and shooting them onto a crooked neck tree inside the town.
Nathanos' style of conduct was vastly different from The Blightcaller Andreas remembered, but the chaotic situation in the Eastern Plaguelands needed someone as calm and restrained as him.
Andreas did not rashly approach Nathanos. Instead, he flapped his wings and left the woods near Crown Watchtower, flying all the way to the Scarlet Crusade's main base—Tyrs Hand.
As the last surviving Human military fortress in the Eastern Plaguelands, the solemn and majestic Tyrs Hand still preserved most of the legacy left behind by the Silver Hand.
Holy songs chanted by Paladins and Priests continuously emanated from the grand cathedral deep within the fortress, and the entire Tyrs Hand was filled with an atmosphere of sacredness and severity.
Andreas frowned slightly at this severe, murderous atmosphere. Among the holy practitioners he had encountered, none had ever deliberately created such an obvious aura of hostility.
Whether it was Uther, Tirion, Gavinrad, or Turalyon, even when they were on the battlefield, they maintained the basic demeanor of a knight.
The organizational atmosphere cultivated by the Scarlet Crusade, in Andreas' view, did not resemble holy practitioners, but rather mad dogs who had lost everything and were desperate for revenge.
Tyrs Hand was, after all, a military fortress, and the Golden Eagle that suddenly intruded into the sky above the fortress attracted the attention of the already scarce garrison.
Animals in the Eastern Plaguelands had either perished or mutated, and the Paladins were highly wary of this suddenly appearing raptor.
Some of the attendants even drew their bowstrings fully. If the Golden Eagle made any suspicious move, they would immediately shoot the arrows in their hands.
Andreas completely ignored these rookie archers, landing in front of the grand cathedral under the cautious gaze of the Crusader guards and transforming back into his human form.
One young female knight in heavy armor raised her hand to stop the archers beside her. She looked at the Night Elf who was dusting off his robe with some surprise.
"A Druid?"
Andreas' long ears twitched. He turned his head to look at the heroic beauty who had spoken from a distance and nodded kindly to her.
The female knight, fully clad in heavy armor, clanked over. Without any intention of pleasantries, her opening words were an interrogation.
"Night Elf, why have you trespassed into the Scarlet Crusade's fortress without permission? State your purpose, or else..."
Andreas' smile faded. He glanced at the rookie soldiers gradually surrounding them and retorted, "Is this the Scarlet Crusade's way of treating guests? Didn't Sethe teach you what reception etiquette is?"
Before the five original Paladins were consecrated by Alonsus, Uther and Turalyon were devout priests with excellent training. Tirion and Gavinrad were nobles from Lordaeron and the Kingdom of Stormwind, respectively, so their refinement was naturally also high.
Only Saidan Dathohan, who served as the Captain of Lordaeron's Warriors, came from common origins, and his conduct was relatively unrestrained and informal.
But having reached a position like Dathohan's, where he could be summoned by the King at any moment, basic etiquette still needed to be observed.
A young-faced Knight Attendant indignantly tried to retort, "You are the rude one! This is a Crusader military fortress, what gives you the right..."
"Silence!"
The heroic young female officer sternly shouted down her subordinate's outburst. "Did I give you permission to speak? Did you learn military discipline for nothing? Go run three laps around Tyrs Hand!"
The young attendant, who looked barely 15 years old, flushed crimson, but seeing the female officer's uncompromising, severe glare, he ultimately had no choice but to bow his head in submission.
"...Yes."
The female officer turned her gaze back to Andreas. "I am Bridget Abdis, Temporary Defense Commander of Tyrs Hand. Does Your Excellency know Lord Dathohan?"
Hearing her introduce herself, Andreas couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. 'Heh~ So it's you, you naive sweetheart.'
The commotion at the cathedral entrance quickly attracted many non-combat personnel from Tyrs Hand to investigate. Priests wearing luxurious robes also began emerging from the grand cathedral.
One middle-aged Priest who looked kind-hearted twitched his mouth when he saw Andreas, and hurriedly quickened his pace toward the scene of the conflict.
"Stop! Bridget, stand down!"
Bridget looked confusedly at the somewhat flustered High Priest. "Grand Inquisitor, you know this..."
The Priest, who was called the Grand Inquisitor, temporarily ignored Bridget's question. He forced a smile onto his face, held the Holy Light Cross on his chest, and performed the Priestly Holy Rite toward Andreas.
"Esteemed Speaker Moonshadow, welcome to our humble fortress. I am Ithilien, Grand Inquisitor of the Crusade. May I ask the purpose of your visit..."
'Speaker Moonshadow?'
Bridget was not an ignorant fool; her father Alfred had taught her a great deal of knowledge since childhood.
After searching through her memory, she quickly realized the situation.
"You are the supreme leader of the Night Elves?!"
"Impudence!"
Ithilien sternly rebuked her. "Since you know Speaker Moonshadow's identity, how can you be so disrespectful? Stand down immediately!"
Andreas was displeased with Ithilien's attitude. Although Bridget seemed very honest and straightforward, at least she showed her true nature. As for Ithilien... while he maintained the reserve of someone in a high position, and his flattering wasn't severe, setting aside his "notoriety" in a certain memorable quest, Andreas was highly displeased with the fake smile plastered on his face.
However, Andreas was capable of playing along. He returned the greeting with a formal smile, saying, "Hello, Grand Inquisitor Ithilien. I have been entrusted by an Elder of the Silver Hand to mediate the dispute between the Scarlet Crusade and the Undead."
"An Elder?"
Ithilien was stunned for a moment. "Please allow me to inquire presumptuously, the name of this Elder is..."
"Tirion, Tirion Fordring."
"What?!"
The general public didn't know Tirion was still alive, but old brothers from the Silver Hand like Ithilien were well aware.
The communication channel between Tirion and the Argent Dawn originally came from the Silver Hand. Even if the Scarlet Crusade couldn't interfere with the intelligence, they at least knew Tirion was getting information through this channel.
To the Silver Hand, Tirion was an undisputed veteran. The title of one of the Original Five Paladins was very prestigious, and even though Uther stripped him of his knighthood for privately releasing an Orc, his name could still deeply move many people.
Before Tirion was convicted, there was actually a public trial and a self-defense session. At that time, Tirion recounted his experience of meeting Eitrigg with neither arrogance nor humility.
At the time, many members of the Silver Hand secretly believed that Tirion's actions were not clearly wrong.
After all, the Paladin creed inherently includes justice and compassion. Although Eitrigg's Orc brethren had committed heinous crimes, Eitrigg alone could not represent all Orcs; he was just one of countless Orcs.
Eitrigg came from the Blackrock Clan and once served as Warchief Orgrim's advisor.
He shared the same political stance as Orgrim, unequivocally opposing Go'el's spread of Fel Energy worship and training of Warlocks from the very beginning.
In the concluding battle of the Second Orc War, Eitrigg was one of the few Orcs who escaped from the Burning Steppes battlefield.
After the war, Eitrigg, who had been hiding, was saddened by the Horde's demise and began to reflect on the reasons for its failure.
Coincidentally, while Eitrigg was wandering in the wilderness, he unexpectedly encountered an acquaintance he had previously interacted with, the Half-Orc Garona.
Ever since breaking free from Go'el's control, Garona had secretly followed the Kingdom of Stormwind group, quietly protecting the Kingdom of Stormwind royal family members in an unknown place.
After Garona provided Go'el's intelligence to Orgrim, the Warchief fulfilled his promise to set her free. Eitrigg had not seen this Half-Orc since then.
Eitrigg, who was very confused about the reasons for the defeat, learned a lot of secret intelligence from Garona.
This included information about Go'el, the Shadow Council, Fel Energy, the Burning Legion manipulating everything from behind the scenes, and even the Old Gods and the Firelord Ragnaros, which Garona had recently investigated.
Upon receiving this news, Eitrigg felt as if enlightened, finally understanding the true plight of the Orcs.
It turned out they had always been puppets in the hands of certain masterminds, and those hidden presences were merely using the Orcs as pawns to disrupt Azeroth.
Eitrigg had always wondered why the Dark Iron Dwarves were willing to lend them Blackrock Spire. The intelligence provided by Garona cleared his doubts, bringing the Old Gods and the Elemental Lords to light, revealing yet another major power in the shadows of Azeroth.
Disheartened, Eitrigg bid farewell to Garona and officially went into seclusion. He needed time to ponder the future of the Orcs and find a way to completely break free from the Blackhand manipulating the Horde from behind.
Eitrigg, living in seclusion in the Western Wilds, unexpectedly met Tirion, who was out patrolling his territory. The two inevitably engaged in a fierce fight.
The aftershocks of the battle shook down an abandoned tower next to them. The ruins of the building engulfed Tirion, and the Paladin immediately lost consciousness.
When Tirion woke up again, he found himself lying in bed, being cared for by his subordinate, Bathilas.
After organizing the information, Tirion came to an incredible conclusion.
It was that Orc who had rescued him from the rubble.
Unable to let it go, Tirion returned to the vicinity of the abandoned tower where he had previously met Eitrigg and found the Orc. Indeed, he received a definitive answer from Eitrigg.
Eitrigg told the confused Tirion about the Orcs' ancient tradition of valuing honor, and about the masterminds behind the Horde invasion.
Eitrigg sincerely expressed the Orcs' desire for atonement to Tirion. His genuine and unfeigned attitude moved the Paladin, who also valued honor.
Tirion promised Eitrigg that he would never reveal his existence to outsiders, and that Eitrigg could live in peace in seclusion within his territory.
However, Tirion's subordinate, Bathilas, did not think so.
Bathilas was originally from the Kingdom of Stormwind. During the First Orc War, his parents were caught in the flames of war and died. After the war, he remained in Lordaeron and never let go of his hatred for Orcs.
Bathilas, who also knew Eitrigg's whereabouts, bypassed Tirion and secretly revealed this information to Saidan Dathohan.
Saidan, who abhorred evil, immediately dispatched troops to capture Eitrigg, and Tirion was also accused by Uther for privately releasing an Orc.
Tirion revealed all the information he knew without reservation in the tribunal.
Not all members of the Silver Hand agreed to prosecute Tirion; they also felt a resonance from Tirion's sincere words.
But with the war against the Orcs just ended, Lordaeron was still filled with an atmosphere of extreme hatred for Orcs. At Terenas' instruction, Uther sorrowfully ordered Tirion to be stripped of his Paladin status and expelled from The Knights of the Silver Hand.
Bridget's spirits lifted when she heard Tirion's name from Andreas; this legendary Paladin still held a high position in many people's hearts.
But Ithilien at this moment appeared very angry. "Tirion? That traitor who colluded with Orcs?!"
"Speaker Moonshadow, I don't want to question your decision, but please consider it more carefully."
"Tirion was convicted of treason by Commander Uther himself. His suggestion... is probably not appropriate, is it?"
Tirion's act of letting Eitrigg go caused a great deal of controversy at the time. Although a small number of knights and warriors who valued honor agreed with his actions, most people who harbored hatred for Orcs considered him a shameful traitor, and Ithilien was one of them.
Andreas wasn't angry; he was well aware of Tirion's situation.
"I know you still have a certain subjective bias against Tirion. I won't force you to change your mind, but I personally am willing to trust Tirion's character and judgment."
Andreas waved his hand, cutting off Ithilien's impending rebuttal. "Even without Tirion's suggestion, I previously secretly infiltrated near the Crown Watchtower to observe that group of undead with their own will."
"They truly have no intention of fighting the Scarlet Crusade to the death. Their leader, Nathanos Blightcaller, delivers letters of reconciliation into the town outside Lordaeron Crossing every day. This persistence has made me decide to trust him."
Ithilien's expression was not good. He was one of the crusaders who insisted on fighting the undead, and indeed the main proponent. Andreas' and Tirion's shared opinion was like a slap in his face.
"This..."
Seeing Ithilien's shifting eyes and perfunctory expression, Andreas smiled kindly, "If you can't make up your mind, I can meet directly with Alfred and Sethe. Just tell me their locations."
Sethe went north to fight the Scourge, and Alfred Abdis was responsible for guarding Tyrs Hand.
The commotion in front of the cathedral hadn't drawn out Alfred, indicating that he wasn't in Tyrs Hand at the moment.
Bridget had always disliked Ithilien's power-grabbing ways. Before the Grand Inquisitor could make excuses, she stepped forward and said, "I know where Father and Uncle Sethe are."
Ithilien's face suddenly changed. "Bridget! Didn't I tell you to step down?!"
Sticking out her neck and ignoring Ithilien's scolding, the stubborn girl looked directly at Andreas.
'Interesting child.'
Andreas asked with interest, "Even if the Scarlet Crusade possesses the elite fighting strength left by the Silver Hand, forcing a two-front war won't yield good results. I think a truce is a win-win choice, don't you agree, Miss Bridget?"
"I agree."
Bridget ignored Ithilien's threatening glances from the side and said firmly, "Father personally went to Lordaeron Crossing to guard it, to train new recruits as much as possible. Uncle Sethe should be..."
"I'm back."
A rough voice, accompanied by the dense sound of horses' hooves, came from afar outside Tyrs Hand. More than a dozen cavalrymen arrived in a group from outside the gate.
The leading knight, clad in red armor, treated his heavy armor as if it were weightless, lightly dismounting from his warhorse and performing a knight's salute to Andreas.
"Speaker Moonshadow, long time no see. What brings you here?"
Ithilien and Bridget had not expected Saidan to return in person from the intense northern front. The two of them hurried forward to salute him.
Ithilien recounted the recent events to Dathohan at a rapid pace, inevitably mixing in some of his own personal biases.
Many people considered Saidan Dathohan to be a brainless brute, but Andreas never thought so; a pure brute could never become a Paladin.
Giving Ithilien a deep look, Saidan heard the provocation in his words and the intent to belittle Alfred's decisions.
Setting Ithilien aside for the moment, through a simple filtering of the information, he roughly understood the current situation.
"So, my old friend Tirion has reached out to his old brothers in the Silver Hand after all this time, hoping the Crusade will reconcile with the undead in southern Eastern Plaguelands?"
Andreas praised him with a smile, "A very accurate summary. I thought you might be misled by certain verbal traps."
Ithilien's expression changed. Noticing the cold glint hidden beneath Saidan's seemingly crude visage, he opened his mouth to defend himself, but the usually silver-tongued Ithilien found his mind blank under the pressure Saidan intentionally released.
"Hmph!"
Saidan's expression was also somewhat unsightly. He hadn't expected that after being away for less than half a year, factional infighting had already begun within the Crusade.
"Ithilien, step back. I have words to say to you in private later."
"Yes..."
...Andreas was not interested in the internal struggles of the Scarlet Crusade. His main purpose in coming to the Eastern Plaguelands this time was to observe the free undead under Nathanos and confirm whether they could be of use to Azeroth.
The Lich King couldn't even protect his own lair; Andreas didn't believe Baron Rivendare's desperate defense of Stratholme could turn the tide.
As the High Elves committed more and more troops to the Eastern Plaguelands battlefield, they also pushed their initially improved Quel'Thalas version of the arcane golem to the front lines.
The High Elves' Dragonhawk Riders and elite Magisters also cast aside their former pride and reserve under Kael'thas' orders, coming from Silvermoon City to join the battle.
With the heavy fire support of the High Elf Magisters, the situation in Stratholme was shifting at a visible speed. The initiative had completely fallen to the High Elves and the Scarlet Crusade, which was why Saidan could confidently leave the front line and return to Tyr's Hand.
As the undisputed leader of the Scarlet Crusade, Saidan, after a discussion with Andreas, finally decided to personally head to the southern front to observe the free undead that Tirion had spoken highly of.
At Lordaeron Crossing, Alfred Abdis breathed a great sigh of relief when he saw Saidan finally arrive.
Under the pressure from within the Crusade, he was almost at his breaking point. If Saidan hadn't come, he would have been forced to lead the recruits in an attack against the undead.
"...These are all the letters of reconciliation sent by the other side?"
Saidan looked in surprise at the twenty-odd letters lined up on the table. Although he had already learned of this from Andreas, the shock of seeing the letters with his own eyes was much stronger than merely hearing about it.
"Yes."
Alfred sighed and said, "They come in daily without fail. This persistence is truly not easy."
Without this persistence, Nathanos—who had been mocked by countless High Elves—would not have moved Sylvanas' heart for talent. Nathanos had once again used his own persistence to win an opportunity, an opportunity for survival.
Saidan read through the letters one by one; not a single one lazily used the same phrases.
Although the meaning expressed was very similar, it was clear that effort had been spent carefully writing them every day.
"Even though the opponent is an undead, to be able to keep sending letters daily to a Crusade that hasn't responded for a long time... I have to admire his indomitable willpower."
Putting down the letters, Saidan thought for a moment and said, "Give a reply. Say that I wish to meet their leader in person."
"Correspondence is ultimately too detached. I want to speak face-to-face with the person who sent these letters."
...Since Saidan had rushed back from the northern front, there was no great suspense regarding the development of the situation.
Sure enough, when Andreas arrived at Quel'Thalas Cabin in the northern Eastern Plaguelands to meet with Aurelia and the others, news of the reconciliation between the Scarlet Crusade and the Forsaken came from the south.
"The Forsaken?"
Andreas' expression was a bit strange. He hadn't expected Nathanos to ultimately choose this racial name.
"That's right." Aurelia waved the intelligence in her hand casually. "That's what Nathanos called them. I didn't expect the apprentice Sylvi taught back then would become the leader of a faction."
Sylvanas appeared somewhat silent. Having been focused on the siege of Stratholme, she didn't know much about the intelligence from the south.
If Andreas hadn't brought news of the Forsaken on this trip north, she never would have imagined that the free undead causing such a stir in the Eastern Plaguelands recently were led by Nathanos.
"Sigh~"
It was quite a while before the Ranger-General sighed. "I learned of his death years ago. I thought we might meet on the battlefield in the future, but I never expected him to tenaciously break free from the Lich King's control and reclaim his own will."
"...I suppose this is a blessing in disguise."
"Sylvi, you'd better put away that sense of relief."
Aurelia comfortingly patted her sister's head and reminded her solemnly, "No matter what Nathanos' stance is, he is ultimately a member of the undead and could still go to war with Quel'Thalas in the future. I don't want you to show a weakness on the battlefield because of a soft heart."
"Heh~"
Sylvanas proudly swatted Aurelia's hand away. "Allie, you don't still think of me as a child, do you?"
"I am the Ranger-General of Quel'Thalas, burdened with the heavy responsibility of protecting it. Do you think I'm the type of person to be tripped up by personal matters?"
"Stubborn girl." Aurelia rubbed her reddened right hand and shook her head with a smile. "I don't believe you'd stay composed if something happened to Lirath."
"Who would dare!"
Sylvanas growled like a bristling lioness, "If anyone dares to lay a hand on Lirath, I will hunt them to the ends of the earth, no matter who the target is!"
Andreas stood to the side and rolled his eyes. 'With three brother-obsessed sisters over him, that kid Lirath' future is looking bleak.'
Leaving aside the relatively gentle Vereesa, both Aurelia and Sylvanas were strong-willed people. Living under their shadow and doting, Lirath would likely struggle to achieve great things in the future.
"Alright, please continue your sisterly flirting later."
Andreas stood up and stretched his body. "It's about time I returned to Kalimdor. With the Forsaken joining, the fall of Stratholme has entered its countdown. It looks like the Eastern Kingdoms will soon be completely peaceful."
Saidan and Nathanos, after multiple discussions, confirmed their cooperation projects and exchange of interests alongside the reconciliation.
Although the Forsaken did not need food, water, or other survival materials required by the living, they still needed a territory to live in.
Darrowshire, as a vital transport hub connecting the Western and Eastern Plaguelands, would eventually be cleared. It was not a long-term residence for the Forsaken.
After some bargaining, Saidan, in a personal capacity, agreed in principle to the Forsaken relocating to the no-longer-habitable Stratholme.
The prerequisite was that the Forsaken send troops to join the northern front and work with the allied forces to crush the last of the Scourge defenders in Stratholme.
'In a personal capacity, agreed in principle.'
On his way to Silvermoon City to use the Sunwell for teleportation, Andreas amusedly thought to himself, 'I doubt many people would notice that the rough and hearty Dathohan would also play such word games.'
Although Saidan had left the Silver Hand to establish the Scarlet Crusade, he was always a patriotic general loyal to Lordaeron. His loyalty could be seen from his previous desperate rescue of Princess Calia.
In other words, Saidan's decision couldn't be considered final; it ultimately depended on Princess Calia's judgment.
With Lordaeron's current population and military strength, even if they reclaimed Stratholme, they wouldn't have the power to manage it. It was better to focus on governing the remaining territories, dangle a carrot to get the Forsaken to contribute, and eliminate the last Scourge threat in the Eastern Kingdoms.
The High Elves hadn't even fully digested the Amani Forest yet, and with their population, they had no desire for territorial expansion. Temporarily handing Stratholme over to the Forsaken was not an unacceptable thing.
In any case, as long as the Thondroril River pass to the west of the city was sealed, the area around Stratholme would be a completely enclosed land. Once Lordaeron's national strength recovered, it wouldn't be difficult at all to send troops to wipe them out.
"Hmm?"
Not long after entering the Amani Forest, the Golden Eagle, which was pondering the changing situation, suddenly stopped on a large tree.
"Come out. For the dignified Bronze Dragon King to hide and peek from the side is beneath your status, isn't it?"
Ever since the remnants of the Nobility Faction were suppressed and eliminated by Kael'thas' army, the perpetually turbulent Quel'Thalas finally entered a relatively stable period.
Without Nobility Faction council members stirring up trouble in the Silvermoon Council, the efficiency of executing decisions made by the Royal Family significantly improved.
Although implementing the decisions still encountered passive-aggressive ridicule from those dissatisfied with the Royal Family's authoritarianism, at least these Keyboard Warriors dared not openly rebel.
The execution of the Great Nobles dragged before the Sunstrider Royal Court was still fresh in everyone's memory; these 'thinkers' who only knew how to talk wouldn't risk their lives.
When Andreas entered the Amani Forest, ZulAman, the capital of the Forest Trolls, had already begun dismantling its city walls and restarting construction.
Kael'thas gradually took power from the Sun King and finally began reforming Quel'Thalas according to his own vision.
Perhaps in the eyes of the Forest Trolls, ZulAman was an important cultural relic left by their ancestors, but the constantly striving High Elves found these primitive and crude ancient buildings extremely... unsightly.
Driven by the desire to destroy the enemy's cultural heritage, Kael'thas ordered ZulAman to be completely demolished, and a new town built on the former site of the Forest Troll capital.
Andreas, in the form of a Golden Eagle, was currently perched atop a large tree outside the ZulAman ruins.
The golden-yellow leaves characteristic of Quel'Thalas obscured most of the view from below, as a brownish-yellow Great Dragon emerged from a Spatial Rift above the treetop, gradually revealing itself before Andreas.
"Your senses are as sharp as ever."
The weary-faced Nozdormu transformed into his Night Elf Form right in front of Andreas, who asked cautiously, "So? Why are you looking for me? You're not trying to throw me back into the War of the Ancients era, are you?"
Although he wasn't clear on the exact experiences of Rhonin and Broxigar, the Memo recorded the approximate time they traveled during the War of the Ancients Trilogy—it should have been between the Third War and the start of World of Warcraft.
Nozdormu's sudden appearance during this dangerous period made Andreas instinctively believe the fellow planned to send him back to the War of the Ancients era to work illegally.
Seeing Andreas' guarded attitude, Nozdormu laughed and shook his head in denial. "How could I? You were one of the firsthand participants in the War of the Ancients. Sending you back poses too great a risk; one slip-up could cause the entire Timeline to collapse."
"Rhonin, Broxigar, and Krasus have already gone and returned, so don't worry about me sending you again."
"They went? That's good."
Andreas slightly lowered his guard. "Then why are you looking for me this time? Surely there aren't more Timelines that need fixing?"
"Hmm..." Nozdormu said hesitantly. "I don't know if it counts as Correcting the Timeline."
"We found the Infinite Dragonflight's Lair, and the Final Battle with them is imminent, but..."
Andreas looked enlightened. "I see. You haven't completely shed your worries and confusion, have you?"
The structure of the Timeline is extremely complex; even the Father of the Gods Aman'thul could not fully grasp it, and Andreas naturally dared not claim to understand it.
No one knows what the future Nozdormu encountered—perhaps corruption by the Old Gods, or perhaps he simply overthought the problem and backed himself into a corner.
In any case, the Dragon Aspect of Time reached a strange conclusion: Azeroth's infinite Timelines would eventually converge toward the same outcome.
The current Nozdormu should have vaguely realized that the lair occupied by the Infinite Dragonflight is located in the same scenario where he was trapped, only the Time Node is different.
The Infinite Dragonflight gave the final outcome of Azeroth's countless Branching Timelines a name—End Time. The Infinite Dragon Aspect was hiding within this Final Timeline, silently awaiting his own fate.
"Haven't I already told you?"
Andreas shrugged helplessly. "Azeroth definitely doesn't have a Closed-loop Temporal Structure, because a world like that would have no future whatsoever; everything would be predetermined."
"I have the simplest verification method: Can you travel to the future of the Main Timeline?"
Nozdormu shook his head. "No, the Temporal Trunk can only flow naturally forward; the Bronze Dragonflight cannot interfere with its movement."
"Then that settles it," Andreas said, spreading his hands. "The future you and the other Bronze Dragonflight members—including the Infinite Dragonflight—see all comes from Branching Timelines."
"Perhaps some entity interfered with the flow of these Branching Timelines, causing your future self to descend into madness and corruption, but the actions of the mastermind ultimately cannot affect the Temporal Trunk where we reside."
Patting Nozdormu's shoulder, Andreas gave him a cheerful thumbs-up and encouraged him, "Go for it! I believe in you."
Fighting the Bronze Dragonflight and the Infinite Dragonflight, who wield the Power of Time, is extremely annoying. Andreas had no desire to join Nozdormu in the Final Battle at End Time; he preferred to let them handle it themselves.
Nozdormu had already prepared for the worst in his heart: killing the Infinite Dragon Aspect might sever his own future.
Andreas dispelled his final hesitation. The energized Dragon Aspect of Time finally found peace and turned back, diving into the Temporal Rift once more.
"Phew~ Convincing this guy really wasn't easy."
It's difficult to trick any entity possessing the Ability of Prophecy; they are constrained by their own inherent understanding of time and find it hard to step outside that framework to make objective judgments.
This was true for Velen, true for Elisande, and naturally, Nozdormu was no exception.
One second later, under Andreas' speechless gaze, the scarred Nozdormu reappeared before him.
Many of his sturdy scales were peeled back, some spots even ripped off entirely. Golden Dragon Blood, like the Sands of Time, flowed from Nozdormu's wounds, suggesting he had just endured a difficult battle.
"...It's over?"
"Yes, it's over."
Nozdormu, wearing an expression of relief mixed with melancholy, looked up at the sky.
"No matter how the future develops, at least I have done what I should as the Keeper of Time for Azeroth. The Infinite Dragonflight is no more; they can no longer influence Azeroth's countless Timelines."
Judging by Nozdormu's complex and hard-to-read emotions, it will likely be difficult for him to move past this "I killed myself" battle anytime soon.
However, time is always the most effective medicine for healing all wounds. After giving Nozdormu a good dose of motivational talk, Andreas finally breathed a sigh of relief as the Dragon Aspect departed.
"With the demise of the Infinite Dragonflight, the remaining hidden dangers among The five-colored Great Dragons are only the Emerald Dream and Deathwing."
While continuing his flight toward Silvermoon City, Andreas pondered how to deal with the issue of the Emerald Dream.
Malfurion spent most of the last ten thousand years asleep in the Emerald Dream, primarily to guard against the chaos instigated by the Nightmare Forces led by Xavius.
As the hidden dangers concerning the Aspects were eliminated one by one, Ysera also recovered her full strength as the dream wardens, meaning it was almost time for a counterattack.
"How exactly am I supposed to capture the incredibly slippery Xavius? Maybe... set a trap with bait he can't refuse?"