Hammer in hand, one that spoke of a thousand battles and countless more moments of creation, and covered head to toe in glistening metal, plate and chain that thrummed with the warmth of Ironforge's beating heart, King Magni Bronzebeard’s presence in his own hall demanded attention. Though his countenance was largely hidden behind his coppery beard and carved features, I felt awe, as so many others must've, when his bright green eyes fell upon us searchingly.
Only the darkening of his eyes gave away his emotions. Whatever it was he was looking for amongst the cheering masses, the proud and gossiping senators, and the foreign dignitaries I sat amongst, he had not found it.
"Quiet." He ordered, his voice breaking through the din like a hammer blow. "The lot of you. Have ye no shame?"
Standing beside his chair, yet to take his place at the centre of the gathered leaders of the Alliance, King Magni gripped the arm of his seat so tightly that the creaking of stressed steel rang through the suddenly silent chamber. A heavy weight fell on us all as he stared out judgmentally.
"Aye. Friends and allies have come to offer pledges of kinship once again." He growled out, some deep-seated offence rising to the surface. "A thing to be celebrated, it be true. But." He dropped his hammer on the table before him, leaning forward over it. "It be too soon. To applaud, to cheer, to forget what happened and act as though our woes are done."
"Some fourteen years ago the orcs came to Khaz Modan. They drowned the passes in blood and buried steadings beneath the dead; a tide of green that saw kith and kin retreat into mountain and hold to weather a storm that seemed without end. We suffered." His eyes drifted across the chamber, lingering most on the non-dwarven members of the audience. "All of us. Dwarf, gnome, human, and even elf. Before Khaz Modan was besieged Stormwind burned, before we were freed Dalaran was torn open, and if men had not given their all to battle we may be besieged still."
Snorting, King Magni shook his head. "I dinnae speak of the past to linger on old wounds. No, I speak of the orcs to remind us all that the Horde were not done when Ironforge was freed. Even when their warchief cowardly fled, their armies broken, the Dark Portal closed at last... they came again." He looked briefly to Falstad and Antonidas on his right. "Until we crushed them in their home at great cost, the war was not done."
"And so it is again." He stood straight, almost seeming taller than was possible for a dwarf – was there something in front of his seat he was standing on? "A new wave of monsters come to strike at our homes. All of us suffering again. Be it on an open field, beneath beloved forest leaves, in the very streets of our cities, or atop the highest of walls, all of our peoples have fought against the undead Scourge. Lost friends, family, or even our very homeland."
"The wise Kirin Tor have no city no more!" King Magni roared furiously, his frustration and rage shaking the air. "Dalaran, filled with wonders I couldnae ever understand, little more than dust in the wind!"
As Antonidas bowed his head sorrowfully, King Magni gestured once more – now to Calia. "The line of Menethil betrayed and all but broken, Lordaeron a plagued husk of what it once was. King Terenas, me friend, killed by his own damned son!"
His fists rose above his head before slamming into the table, hard enough that his hammer leapt from its surface. "Me own brother dead an' left tae rot in the damned north by the same!" His voice broke, sorrow rippling through it, and my heart clenched. Muradin Bronzebeard was alive, and I... I was going to use that to Gilneas' benefit. "It be too soon to cheer. Too soon to applaud."
Slowly his arms fell to his side and he slumped into his seat tiredly, weariness and grief worn openly on his face for all to see. "Celebrate another day. Today be time to mourn, to remember what be lost to us all. Be it a brother," Calia reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm as she rose, "or a father."
The move had to have been practised, or at least planned, as she alone stood to speak next, the presence King Magni had exuded and the attention he had demanded near-seamlessly falling into her hands.
"I was but a child when the orcs came," she began softly, an innocent touch in her voice that King Magni had lacked, "sheltered and protected behind the most stalwart of wars. I saw grieving widows, orphan children, so many wounded and lost because of their coming. But I didn't understand, not truly, what it meant to have the Horde lay siege to one's home."
Calia turned her eyes to Varian beside her. "Now, as much I might beg the Light to make it not be so, I understand. Perhaps it is wrong of me to say, yet much as Stormwind against the horrors of the orcs, Lordaeron has suffered more than any other against the undead Scourge."
If my hearing had been any worse, I suspect that I wouldn't have caught the faint snort Kael'thas loosed beside me. "Wrong indeed." He muttered frustratedly. "Her people, at least, did not have their very heart ripped away from them."
Though his disagreement with her assessment was clear, his words held no heat to them. Grief and frustration over what his own people had faced, rather than a denial of what had happened to Lordaeron.
"I cannot know how many have died, only that when it comes time to tally our losses, we shall instead count those few that survived, rather than those that have fallen." Calia paused, letting the weight of her words, the weight of millions of dead, settle upon us. "Yet, were it not for the Alliance that my late father championed, the toll would be so much greater."
"My own life, struck down beside him when my..." Her breath hitched as she caught herself. "Arthas came for his family, but the least of it. Much as the Kirin Tor's wisdom saw me spirited away, they foresaw the danger to come. Though chastised, castigated, and maligned for their actions, they burned away the Plague that ravaged my home as best they were able. Granting many peace under the Light rather than the entrapment of undeath."
"And if not for the ships of Kul Tiras, countless lives would have been lost; instead ferried to safety across the ocean when no other passage was left to them. More still were rescued by the gryphons of Aerie Peak, protected by the stalwart dwarves of Ironforge, the ingenuity of the gnomes, and brave knights of Lordaeron."
"What about Gilneas?" I muttered under my breath. I approved of much of her speech, but her refusal to mention Gilneas, the aid and shelter we had provided her and her people – whether Genn wanted it or not – was painfully blatant. It was a song of unity for the Alliance rather than a heartfelt offering of thanks to the people who had aided Lordaeron.
Good, something I couldn't fully disapprove of let alone hate, but... it was being exclusionary. Which didn't exactly bode well for later – what in the Nether had happened with Calia since we set sail?
"I know not the names of all those who fought against our shared foe, but I grieve them all the same." Calia said with heartfelt sincerity. "From the kind dwarven prince who tried to teach a young girl to throw axes against her mother's will, to the brave gnome who wished little more than to return home. Their loss, our loss, wounds us all, and I – we – owe them a debt we can never repay."
She clasped her hands together before her in prayer, a faint hymn of mourning playing at her fingers as they flickered with Light. "All that I can do is offer my thanks and pray that they rest peacefully, undisturbed in the Light's embrace."
Behind her, Magroth held his fist over his heart. The same hymn of mourning, of fallen brothers and sons, lost family and brave heroes, rising as his eyes shone brightly with sorrow.
Across the chamber, more priests joined in on the prayer. Some were obvious, men and women wearing the raiment of the Church of the Light, yet amongst the senators of Ironforge a remarkable number bowed their heads and began to hum and add themselves to the hymn.
I briefly considered adding my own voice, my own touch, and calling on Odyn as I had done many times when putting the dead to rest... but chose not to. I was not the guide here, nor was this a blending of Life and Light to give rest to the woken dead. It was a sincere prayer by those who held faith in the Light and its teachings.
Sometimes, even if I had something to add, it wasn't my place to do so. So I remained silent and watched as the gathered throng hesitantly, uncertainly, added their own voices to the growing hymn.
Minutes passed by slowly until the last voice faded away, and at its end, High Tinker Mekkatorque rose quietly and began to speak in startlingly – at least, for anyone who had interacted with him, or any gnome ever – subdued tones as he offered his own call for unity.
-oOoOo-
"Might I ask your thoughts, Lady Gwyneth?" Sir Magroth asked, breaking me out of the wallflower tendencies I'd developed after Antonidas had finished his – the last – speech with a thank you to Varian Wrynn. "To keep you aside at a time such as this, they must be great indeed."
I'd not missed his approach, the familiar song, the declaration that the innocent would be protected, brushing against my skin unmistakably. But much as I'd found no reason to involve myself in the goings on in the chamber, where the leaders found time to mingle with noble and peasant alike, I'd seen no reason to call out to him before he was close enough to converse.
When Darius and Admiral Candren had gone to see that Gilneas' aid to the Alliance, Lordaeron and Kirin Tor alike, was not ignored amongst King Magni and Daelin's grand gestures, I'd been left adrift.
They had a grand list of names and a bundle of letters collected from the Lordainian refugees that we'd sheltered, as well as the mind and experience to see them used to great effect. Darius neither needed nor had asked for my aid; in truth, if I did more than stand beside him handing him things, I'd likely have been more of a bother than a help.
Had we been offering condolences as King Magni was doing, hearing tales of dozens upon dozens of fallen warriors from their grieving kin, I might've had a reason to offer flowers. But Darius was giving a message of survival, of those Gilneas had saved, not one of mourning.
And as much as I disliked politics, I wasn't so ignorant as to think being foolish enough to interrupt Daelin, or any of the others, would make a good impression. What would it look like if I tried to talk to him, to interrupt and get in the way, as he reunited a lost child with their father, telling the tale of how the brave little girl had been rescued from a ramshackle raft off the coast of Lordaeron?
Demanding, arrogant, rude, and so much more. No, trying to speak with any of them now would be a disaster in the making. This was their show, not mine.
"Just ruminating on my place in the world." I replied to Magroth softly. In the end, prophet or not, the world didn't revolve around me. "I might not just be a little girl anymore, but there's always a bigger fish."
I blinked, noticing the companion at his side at last – there was a faint song about her... an attempt to echo Magroth that wasn't harmonising properly. "Speaking of bigger fish... would you mind introducing your... squire?" I asked, and he nodded. "I'm pretty sure you didn't have one when we last met, and certainly not one so young."
Still taller than me, even if she had the gangly limbs of someone still in the throes of puberty. Fourteen, maybe fifteen, if I had to guess.
"Gwyneth, might I introduce Lynnia Abbendis, granddaughter of General Abbendis." He said, the name tickling my mind for some reason. "Lynnia, this is Gwyneth Arevin, one of the witches who protect and serve the people of Gilneas."
There was a flicker of a frown, and a sharper discordant note in her song, as Magroth mentioned witches. But she offered a bow and her voice lacked any hostility. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." She said, her inflection giving her away as a Lordainian. "Sir Magroth has told Grandfather of how instrumental you were in seeing Gilneas' forces sent northward, and both he and Mother made clear how important the supplies they brought were to our foothold in Deathknell."
"You made it that far north?" I blurted out in surprise, the name of where the Forsaken began their journeys sticking out. "Sorry, but that's all the way into Tirisfal isn't it? And, very ironically named all things considered."
"Mother chose the location to stop any necromancers from unsealing the catacombs there." Lynnia retorted defensively. "And the bells help warn us of any approaching undead."
Magroth smiled lightly. "Ironic, yes. But also a sound decision by Dame Brigitte. As for our ranging northward, in truth, we did not go so far as to reach the edge of Silverpine. Instead, as Lord Barnsbury led our force to avoid an undead swarm, he scented survivors on the wind."
Lynnia shivered, rubbing at her arm as Magroth mentioned Lord Barnsbury's name. I might not recognise it, but it was clear enough he was a worgen; of course the paladin-to-be wasn't scared of the undead but found the worgen unsettling. "Mother's hunters as they were gathering fresh food." She said, realising Magroth was waiting for her to speak. "Might have lost them to the Scourge if your... wolf man hadn't found them first."
I couldn't help but smile, it was good to hear that those afflicted were still making due and helping others. There was a long, long way to go before we could call the curse resolved, but between the ritual I'd made for the Order and Arenas' efforts with Archmage Arugal, they had a chance to be themselves.
Who knew, maybe Celestine and the others found a way to refine it while I was gone. Or when I got back my insights from the Thornspeakers... but that was for the future.
"After you met them, I'm guessing you informed them of Princess Calia's survival?" I offered, Magroth once more nodding his agreement with a smile. "And General Abbendis wanted to send an emissary, whom you escorted."
"Indeed. And once I reached her majesty, she asked that I stand by her side on her journey. A Knight of the Silver Hand to serve as her protector." He said it matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing special about guarding royalty. Still, I could feel the rise in his song, the gladness that he could serve as her protector. "I am a meagre replacement for Lord Uther, who served that role for Prince Arthas before his fall, but as Her Majesty asks, I shall do."
"Even going so far as to kindle her skill with the Light, too." I pointed out with some amusement. Of course, as I realised what that was paralleling, I grimaced. "Sorry."
"I take no offence in the truth." He shook his head, but the pride in his song had been crushed regardless. "Now, I have been remiss in my duties for long enough. Her Majesty begins to tire, and it is my duty to provide her a reprieve. Farewell, Gwyneth."
As he walked away, I waved goodbye. Then, after a moment, I sighed and pushed myself away from the wall. There were a few dwarven senators and a couple of human nobles that noticed my talk with Magroth, and the way they were looking, they wanted to know what it was about. Time to do my part in seeing Gilneas given credit for the good we've done.
-oOoOo-
My knees ached as I crested the top of the stairs leading to the Wildhammer embassy, if the literal bird's nest that was up here could be called such a thing. Unlike what I remembered from before, Ironforge's gryphons didn't roost amongst the heat and noise of the Great Forge; no, instead they had a spire all their own sticking out from the mountain.
One which had, after the resumption of good relations between the Bronzebeard and Wildhammer clans, been thoroughly claimed by the gryphon-riding and sky-loving dwarves of Aerie Peak.
"Ho lass, have a good climb?" Falstad asked good-naturedly as he wiped down his mount. "Was thinkin' o' having another short flight since ye were taking so long. Mebe even flying down to come get you, wouldnae been any slower if I did."
I huffed at him tiredly. "Should've just flown up myself. But it's freezing out there."
He chuckled, patting his gryphon. "Aye, but tha's what Thunderbrew's for! An so close to Karanos, it be easy to get a good supply. But hearin' tha's now why yer here, lass. Ain't got much reason to keep it a secret, but figure ye might've so I had me cousin clear out his office so we can talk."
Unease was already twisting my insides into knots over the idea of manipulating him at all, let alone in public, so I nodded eagerly and followed him as he led us through the roosting gryphons. The eyrie, or aerie, was remarkably warm despite having only three walls; chimneys drew up great drafts of hot air from deep within the mountain, maybe the Great Forge itself, and kept most of the chill wind at bay.
There were a few gusts of freezing air as we walked, but not many. And the tickling at my nape told me that not all of them were entirely natural; the trouble with an elemental liking you, is it also liking to play with you.
Not that I had a real problem with it, my little breeze was much, much too useful to complain about seriously; nice fodder for having a good moan, though.
Falstad held the door open as I entered, then clicked it shut behind me, leaving us alone in what was a remarkably drab office. There were some personalisations scattered around, dream-catchers made from gryphon feathers, a few wood carvings put around, but otherwise quite bare.
"It ain't grand, but it be good enough fer a chat." Falstad said, taking a seat in one of the two dwarf-sized chairs.
A clear victory for being shorter than average; if Lorna tried to sit in it she'd be half falling off of the thing, but I was sitting in it comfortably! Well, comfortably for a chair literally carved from stone anyway.
But I was distracting myself. Trying to procrastinate and avoid the thing that I came here to do, but wasn't at all comfortable actually doing.
Letting the silence drag on awkwardly, avoiding looking at each other, wasn't helping either of us.
"Dinnae know how to say this..." Falstad mumbled, taking the initiative much to my relief. "But I owe ye an apology, lass. If I'd listened to yer damned letter..." He looked away, brow furrowed and angry – angry at himself. "Couldnae believe Arthas, King Terenas' little boy, would ever do anythin' like that. Went an' threw it in the fire 'cause I were angry, and it were wrong. Somethin' I'll be regrettin' for years, if not forever."
"You did in the end." I said awkwardly, taken aback by the unabashed apology he was giving me. "You sent Caedan, you called the clans, and you rode out. You didn't do nothing."
Falstad snorted dismissively. "Aye, I did that. But it weren't enough. Too late, too little, too bleedin' slow. If we'd been a day later, mebe even just hours, there'd be no elven prince here, ye ken? Tha's how badly I done made a mess o' things." He let out a sharp, frustrated, breath.
"Nae just an apology I owe ye, but me honour too. Gotta pay me debt as best I can, an I figure... ye want Gilneas to come back, right?" He asked, eyes meeting mine when I nodded and his beard twitching as he smiled. "Weren't gonna say no anyway, but figure I should say it. Be damn foolish to turn down help when those things are runnin' all over, so Gilneas' has the support o' the Wildhammer. Through an' through."
"Thank you. I... I thought I would have to convince you." To manipulate you, I didn't say. My stomach only twisted all the tighter from hearing his earnest support.
"Ain't enough though. Can hardly pay a debt by doing something I were gonna do anyway," he mused, some cheer returning to him, "that ain't right. So, lass, got any ideas? I know yer friend, the, ah, she's a queen now yeah? Has a gryphon. Hestra's sired some eggs, could get ye one."
Slowly, I shook my head. Keepers, even when I got what I wanted, why did it have to be so hard?
I... I should use his offer for Gilneas. And then... then I should tell him. "I don't need a mount, since I can fly on my own." I told him, my voice subdued. "But, back when I first met him, Caedan was looking for somewhere to establish a new holding? For his growing clan, with native gryphons which we found. If you could support that, I'd appreciate it."
Local gryphon riders in Gilneas, a source of aerial mounts for our people, and those with the knowledge to train them. Maybe Caedan and his clan would actually be the ones to do it, that way I'd have a friend closer at hand too.
Falstad huffed, sounding somewhere between frustrated and amused. "Dinnae make it easy, do ye. But aye, I'll give me support to it. Sort out the details with Crowley an' get some kind of treaty done so it be all official." He started scratching at his chin thoughtfully. "Yer witches do stuff with the wind, yeah?"
"We do." I answered, but before he could continue I interrupted him. "But, High Thane, there's something I want – need to tell you." He stopped, clearly curious, and waited. "You know that I... know things. The future, but not just that, and... I want to tell you that Kurdran Wildhammer is alive. The Sons of Lothar, all of them, Khadgar, Turalyon, Danath, Alleria, and Kurdran are alive on Outland."
Not that I knew whether Turalyon and Alleria were actually still there, of course. When those two buggered off into the vast abyss of who the bloody hell knows was a mystery I didn't have the answer to. The others, though, were definitely there.
"Kurdran. Kurdran's alive." Falstad said slowly, as if tasting the words. "On Outland. Ye... Yer sure of this, lass? The Sons of Lothar are still kickin' arse and holding on after all this time?"
"Yes. And... I vaguely know how to get there." The Dark Portal, obviously, but not just that; it was closed at the moment anyway. "When the Scourge summoned their demon lord into the world it left a scar, and because they used Outland, the ruins of Draenor, as a staging point... that scar leads there. Not necessarily close to any of the Sons of Lothar, but to the same place."
Falstad stood with a start, reaching for the hammer that was missing from his belt. As if he was ready to set out, force open a portal, and rescue them himself. "So." He grunted, visibly regaining control of himself. "Gotta get meself some mages and make a proper plan o' this, right lass? Cannae go flyin' with grease in me feathers."
I... had no idea what that idiom meant, but it was probably something about a lack of preparedness? "Once they know what to look for, they should be able to find it. Kael'thas would have gone through after... some things happened."
There was no way I was explaining Garithos right now. I felt drained enough as it was without having to deal with the man who nearly killed the Alliance with his bigotry.
"Ye ken, ye didnae have to tell me tha'." He murmured softly. "I ken what it means to think fer yer people first. Ye were surprised when I apologised, an' I were right confused when ye got uncomfortable 'cause of it. But it be makin' sense now." Walking up to me, he clasped me on the shoulder and squeezed. "Thank ye. Fer yer letter, fer tellin' me even when ye had what ye wanted. It ain't wrong to put yer own people first."