Contrary to what most might believe, vengeance was not the only thing that drove Kael’thas Sunstrider forward at this point. As much as he might have wanted to dedicate all of his resources towards tracking down Arthas Menethil and making the bastard pay for what he did to Silvermoon and Kael’s people, there were more important things to be done.
Or so Kael’thas had thought. But then… he’d tried to set aside his vengeance and fury. Rather than chasing after Arthas, he’d returned to his people, to his lands, and tried his best to make things right. He’d laid his father to rest, dealt with the corrupted Sunwell, and ultimately rallied the remnants of his people, renaming them Blood Elves in honor of their fallen kin.
Nine in ten High Elves were slain in the despicable invasion of Quel’Thalas. Arthas and his Scourge Armies had done unthinkable damage as they’d laid waste to everything that stood in their path to the Sunwell. And those who remained, those who would become the Blood Elves… they were just now beginning to feel the effects of the Sunwell’s loss.
Destroying the Sunwell was necessary, Kael wouldn’t ever believe otherwise. But without it… his people were suffering withdrawals. They would need a replacement of some kind to make up for the Sunwell’s absence, and Kael’thas didn’t have even the slightest clue where that would come from just yet.
But even with all of that… he’d taken his newly minted Blood Elves and made his way south into Lordaeron, joining the remnants of the old Alliance there. Putting himself and his troops under the command of Grand Marshal Othmar Garithos, Kael had had every intention of supporting their human allies in saving their lands from the Scourge, in the hopes that when the dust was settled and all was said and done, a meeting of Dalaran’s surviving Archmages could be called and a solution for his people’s plight could be found.
Everything Kael’thas had done had been for his people. He had set aside his vengeance for them, even though his heart burned with a need to track down Arthas and kill the Traitor Prince for what he’d done.
But… despite the best intentions of Kael’thas and his Blood Elves, it would seem they were doomed to be betrayed at every turn. Grand Marshal Garithos was a bigot of the highest order, and his hatred for Kael’s people was incredibly obvious in hindsight.
The human man had sent Kael’thas and his forces into battle without reinforcements and without support time and time again. Every mission that the Blood Elves were given, they survived in SPITE of the odds, completing their tasks by the skin of their teeth… and with no small amount of losses.
Finally, Kael’thas had deemed it necessary to confront the Grand Marshal for his actions. He had accused Garithos of using his people as cannon fodder, and rightly so. And what was the Grand Marshal’s response? He’d had them all locked up and sentenced them to death for treason against the Alliance. Treason! Pah!
In hindsight, the man was just looking for an excuse to rid himself of Kael and his people. If the Prince of Quel’Thalas hadn’t stood up for his troops when he did, Garithos would have just continued finding suicide missions to send them out on until every last one of their lives was spent for the human cause.
But no, because Kael’thas had decided to speak his mind, the Grand Marshal had decided they were all to be executed. Thankfully, before that could happen… the Prophet had shown up. Kael’thas didn’t know who the man really was, which in and of itself was a sign that this ‘Prophet’ was a very powerful magic user.
Either way, he had earned the Prince’s gratitude and respect when he’d freed them from Garithos’ prison. And that had in turn earned him Kael’s ear, when it turned out the Prophet had another path for him.
The hooded man had been incredibly vague about exactly what it was Kael and his people would find in Northrend, but he’d made it clear that they would have a chance to end the Scourge’s Master once and for all, and that there would be allies there that would need their help, if they were to seek them out.
So far, everything the Prophet had said was true it would seem. However, in telling the truth, the man had obviously omitted some very important information. Such as the fact that their allies would not just be their ancient kin, the Night Elves… but also orcs. Greenskin scum that Kael’thas was just supposed to… accept.
Though he had to admit, the orc who had done the talking was surprisingly eloquent for his kind. And even apologetic. Of course, Kael didn’t fail to note the way the orc readily put so much blame on the Burning Legion. Still… he didn’t seem like he was lying. Perhaps it was even true. Perhaps the orcish horde that had done so much harm two decades ago were just demon patsies. That didn’t make it any better, but it certainly explained some things.
However, the other thing… when the Prophet had spoken of the Scourge’s Master, Kael’thas had assumed he spoke of Arthas Menethil, and justifiably so he felt. Except… that was apparently NOT the case. Because if the orc he’d spoken with was to be believed, Arthas was already dead. Dead… and Kael hadn’t even known. Was Jaina aware? He hadn’t thought much of the human woman in recent days, but that did not mean she was never on his mind.
Did she know that Arthas was dead? Was she even still alive? More than that… what did it mean for him that Arthas was dead? Certainly, Kael’thas had set aside his vengeance for the sake of his people, but… to find out that the Traitor Prince was already gone, that his ability to avenge his father and all of Quel’Thalas was gone with him… Kael didn’t know how to feel about that.
He did know one thing though. He wanted answers. It had taken every fiber of his being not to demand them from the orc. But he recognized that doing so would have given the greenskin more power over him than Kael would have preferred. And besides… why ask the orc for an explanation when he could go straight to the source instead?
Coming up on a rather beautiful tent in the joint camp made between his people, the orcs, and the Night Elves, Kael’thas Sunstrider smiles and nods his head to the two Night Elf Sentinels standing outside.
“Greetings. Please ask your High Priestess if she can spare me a moment of her time.”
The Sentinels exchange a glance at that, before one steps inside. The other takes up position in the middle of the tent’s opening, staring him down intensely, just waiting for him to give her an excuse to strike. Kael just continues smiling, until a few moments later the first Sentinel steps back out and taps her sister on the shoulder, giving him a single nod.
With that, he’s allowed to enter the High Priestess’ tent, finding her looming over a table, writing a quick letter. As he approaches, she finishes it and rolls it into a scroll before setting it aside and turning to face him.
“High Priestess Whisperwind, if I’m remembering correctly?”
Tyrande Whisperwind looks at him with eyes older than even his father’s ever were and slowly nods.
“Indeed. What can I do for you, Prince Sunstrider?”
Bowing just the right amount for a Prince to foreign royalty, Kael’thas straightens up and puts on his best gallant smile.
“Please, call me Kael’thas. We are kin in a way, are we not?”
Tyrande tilts her head to the side at that, quiet for a moment. Finally, she offers a soft… if regretful smile.
“We are, young Kael’thas. I imagine I would know more about that then you would. I still remember the day your ancestor Dath’Remar Sunstrider left our shores with the rest of the Highborne. We exiled your people from Kalimdor for their reckless pursuit of Arcane Magic, for fear that it would lead the Burning Legion right back to our world.”
Kael’thas finds himself stiffening at Tyrande’s words, if not her tone. She doesn’t sound accusatory… in fact, she sounds altogether wistful, especially as she glances off to the side, looking at nothing in particular.
“… I wonder now if the Legion’s return was inevitable. I wonder if the decisions we made… that I have made over these past ten thousand years… were mistakes. And I wonder what could have been if I’d done better.”
Taken aback by the High Priestess’ sudden turn for the melancholy, Kael’thas squirms for a moment.
“Err… well, I’m sure you’ve done the best you can with the information you had at hand. Nobody is perfect. Quel’Thalas was no better prepared for the Scourge’s coming, I’m afraid to say. My people fought bravely… but it was not enough.”
Hoping to steer Tyrande clear of any more moments of self-flagellation, Kael clears his throat.
“That’s actually why I came. I had hoped to ask you for more information about what that orc said before. Regarding Arthas Menethil’s death.”
The Priestess of Elune’s gaze snaps to Kael’thas at the mention of Arthas Menethil. Though the first thing out of her mouth is about the orc instead.
“That orc has a name, young one. He is Rognak, Chieftain of the Warsong Clan. He has as much right to his titles as you do your own.”
Kael’thas grimaces, both because he can tell he stepped in it on that one, and because most days he’s up late into the night, questioning if he DOES have any right to any of his titles anymore. But… someone has to lead his people. Someone has to try to save what remains of Quel’Thalas.
“Of course. My apologies.”
Tyrande softens a bit, pulling back minutely… before frowning again.
“What is it you would like to know regarding Arthas Menethil’s death?”
Finally. Kael’thas tries not to be too eager about it, but he can’t help leaning in just a bit.
“I wished to know the circumstances that led to his demise. Did he die badly, at least? Did he die screaming?”
For a moment, he thinks he might need to reign it in… but before he can apologize for his exuberance, Tyrande Whisperwind’s face splits into a frankly terrifying smile. She looks off again, this time clearly reminiscing as she answers him.
“The human prince died like the dog he was, Prince Kael’thas. Of that, you need not worry.”
A shiver runs down Kael’thas’ side. He’d seen the High Priestess fighting in the battle against the Nerubians from up above on his dragonhawk while he and his forces came to relieve her expedition. He could very well believe she was a dangerous warrior, on top of a beautiful woman and a Priestess of Elune. Even still… it sounded personal for Tyrande.
Throwing caution to the wind, Kael’thas blurts out what’s on his mind.
“Good. He killed my father. He massacred my people. He deserved nothing but the worst death for his crimes.”
Tyrande looks to him for a long moment… and finally nods.
“He killed someone close to me as well. And his Scourge, even if he was not their commander, were responsible for the… death of my mate.”
She grimaces at that last part, looking away. It’s obvious this isn’t easy for her. Kael’thas swallows past the lump in his throat, memories of the devastation wrought in Quel’Thalas by Arthas Menethil and his armies flitting through his head like hellish paintings, one after the other.
“… And you killed him? Slaughtered him like a dog?”
Tyrande hesitates but nods once more.
“I did. After he was slain, his body was burned to ashes in a funeral pyre overseen by the human mage Jaina Proudmoore.”
That brings Kael’thas up short. His eyes widen as he stops and just stares for a long moment.
“I’m… I’m sorry. Did you say Jaina Proudmoore? She was there? She’s on Kalimdor?”
Looking a little confused, Tyrande nevertheless nods yet again.
“Indeed. Lady Proudmoore and her troops were as crucial as Warchief Thrall and his Horde in the Battle for Mount Hyjal. There, Archimonde the Defiler was stopped once and for all… at great cost.”
Mount Hyjal. Where it was said that a second Well of Eternity lay hidden. Where his ancestors had once drawn their arcane power, before journeying across the sea to Quel’Thalas.
Kael’thas is smart enough not to mention that to Tyrande for now, but… he certainly files it away in the back of his mind as a distinct possibility for his people’s salvation. Perhaps if this joint venture goes exceptionally well, he might be able to entreat their ancient kin the Night Elves to help them after all. Tyrande HAD said she had regrets regarding his ancestors’ exile, so who could say for sure?
And to think… Jaina was on Kalimdor. She’d helped defeat Arthas AND the Burning Legion. Amazing to say the least. Though Kael did wonder what her father would think if he knew she’d fought alongside orcs, no matter the circumstances.
… Well, that was none of his business. No, Kael wasn’t going to touch that situation with a ten foot pole, thank you very much.
“It’s good to hear that she’s doing well. She and I were friends, once upon a time. And… it’s good to hear that even if it couldn’t be my hand that did the deed, that you, one of our ancient kin, dealt with the Traitor Prince once and for all. Arthas was a monster… and he deserved no less than to be put down like one.”
Tyrande hums and nods solemnly for a moment. Silence falls between them and Kael grasps for a conversation topic. In the end, his mind turns towards the most obvious.
“It still amazes me that you count orcs among your numbers. I can certainly understand that fighting the Burning Legion makes for strange bedfellows… but shapeshifting greenskins was not what I expected when I brought my people North. Are you confident they can be trusted, High Priestess? Even if they were victims of the Legion… the orc himself said that it was the Legion who were supporting the Scourge and this Lich King now, didn’t he? What if they fall back under their sway? Are you not worried?”
In an instant, Kael’thas knows that he’s gotten on Tyrande’s bad side, even though he felt like his words needed to be said. Still, the atmosphere in the tent turns even more chilled than it already was, and Tyrande herself suddenly looks at him with flinty eyes as she speaks with a cold tone.
“I am no more worried that Rognak and his Warsong Druids will fall back under the Legion’s sway… than I am that you and your people will submit to the Legion for power, Prince Sunstrider.”
Kael’thas stiffens at Tyrande’s words, a little offended. But the High Priestess isn’t done.
“After all… despite the crimes of Queen Azshara and many of the Highborne who served her during the War of the Ancients, despite the fact that they tried to sell out our world to the Legion for scraps off of the table… we did not condemn Lord Dath’Remar and the rest of the Highborne who had no part in Azshara’s madness. Not until an arcane storm was ‘accidentally’ manifested over the forest of Ashenvale did we act, and even then the punishment was only exile.”
Wincing, Kael’thas decides then and there that he’s overstayed his welcome. He didn’t expect the Night Elf Priestess to be such a… proponent of her orc allies, but he supposed he should have. She had, after all, stepped up almost immediately to defend Rognak when they’d first met. But he’d figured that was just post-battle adrenaline talking. Now he realized it ran deeper than that.
“… I see your point, High Priestess. Apologies if I’ve offended in any way. Perhaps I should take my leave now, and we can talk again later.”
Tyrande’s gaze continues to be flinty as she sharply nods at him.
“Perhaps you should.”
No confirmation that they might speak once more later… but Kael’thas takes what he can get, retreating with his head held high. He’s learned quite a lot as it is… and even if the presence of this Rognak and his fellow orcs still unsettles the Prince something fierce, Kael’thas knows for a fact that he’ll sleep like a babe tonight all the same.
Regardless of their current location and the likelihood that they’re surrounded on all sides by their enemies… he’ll sleep better than he has in months knowing that Arthas Menethil is dead and ash, and his people have, at least partially, been avenged.
Now all that was left was to finish the job.
-x-X-x-
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Contrary to what most might believe, vengeance was not the only thing that drove Kael’thas Sunstrider forward at this point. As much as he might have wanted to dedicate all of his resources towards tracking down Arthas Menethil and making the bastard pay for what he did to Silvermoon and Kael’s people, there were more important things to be done.
Or so Kael’thas had thought. But then… he’d tried to set aside his vengeance and fury. Rather than chasing after Arthas, he’d returned to his people, to his lands, and tried his best to make things right. He’d laid his father to rest, dealt with the corrupted Sunwell, and ultimately rallied the remnants of his people, renaming them Blood Elves in honor of their fallen kin.
Nine in ten High Elves were slain in the despicable invasion of Quel’Thalas. Arthas and his Scourge Armies had done unthinkable damage as they’d laid waste to everything that stood in their path to the Sunwell. And those who remained, those who would become the Blood Elves… they were just now beginning to feel the effects of the Sunwell’s loss.
Destroying the Sunwell was necessary, Kael wouldn’t ever believe otherwise. But without it… his people were suffering withdrawals. They would need a replacement of some kind to make up for the Sunwell’s absence, and Kael’thas didn’t have even the slightest clue where that would come from just yet.
But even with all of that… he’d taken his newly minted Blood Elves and made his way south into Lordaeron, joining the remnants of the old Alliance there. Putting himself and his troops under the command of Grand Marshal Othmar Garithos, Kael had had every intention of supporting their human allies in saving their lands from the Scourge, in the hopes that when the dust was settled and all was said and done, a meeting of Dalaran’s surviving Archmages could be called and a solution for his people’s plight could be found.
Everything Kael’thas had done had been for his people. He had set aside his vengeance for them, even though his heart burned with a need to track down Arthas and kill the Traitor Prince for what he’d done.
But… despite the best intentions of Kael’thas and his Blood Elves, it would seem they were doomed to be betrayed at every turn. Grand Marshal Garithos was a bigot of the highest order, and his hatred for Kael’s people was incredibly obvious in hindsight.
The human man had sent Kael’thas and his forces into battle without reinforcements and without support time and time again. Every mission that the Blood Elves were given, they survived in SPITE of the odds, completing their tasks by the skin of their teeth… and with no small amount of losses.
Finally, Kael’thas had deemed it necessary to confront the Grand Marshal for his actions. He had accused Garithos of using his people as cannon fodder, and rightly so. And what was the Grand Marshal’s response? He’d had them all locked up and sentenced them to death for treason against the Alliance. Treason! Pah!
In hindsight, the man was just looking for an excuse to rid himself of Kael and his people. If the Prince of Quel’Thalas hadn’t stood up for his troops when he did, Garithos would have just continued finding suicide missions to send them out on until every last one of their lives was spent for the human cause.
But no, because Kael’thas had decided to speak his mind, the Grand Marshal had decided they were all to be executed. Thankfully, before that could happen… the Prophet had shown up. Kael’thas didn’t know who the man really was, which in and of itself was a sign that this ‘Prophet’ was a very powerful magic user.
Either way, he had earned the Prince’s gratitude and respect when he’d freed them from Garithos’ prison. And that had in turn earned him Kael’s ear, when it turned out the Prophet had another path for him.
The hooded man had been incredibly vague about exactly what it was Kael and his people would find in Northrend, but he’d made it clear that they would have a chance to end the Scourge’s Master once and for all, and that there would be allies there that would need their help, if they were to seek them out.
So far, everything the Prophet had said was true it would seem. However, in telling the truth, the man had obviously omitted some very important information. Such as the fact that their allies would not just be their ancient kin, the Night Elves… but also orcs. Greenskin scum that Kael’thas was just supposed to… accept.
Though he had to admit, the orc who had done the talking was surprisingly eloquent for his kind. And even apologetic. Of course, Kael didn’t fail to note the way the orc readily put so much blame on the Burning Legion. Still… he didn’t seem like he was lying. Perhaps it was even true. Perhaps the orcish horde that had done so much harm two decades ago were just demon patsies. That didn’t make it any better, but it certainly explained some things.
However, the other thing… when the Prophet had spoken of the Scourge’s Master, Kael’thas had assumed he spoke of Arthas Menethil, and justifiably so he felt. Except… that was apparently NOT the case. Because if the orc he’d spoken with was to be believed, Arthas was already dead. Dead… and Kael hadn’t even known. Was Jaina aware? He hadn’t thought much of the human woman in recent days, but that did not mean she was never on his mind.
Did she know that Arthas was dead? Was she even still alive? More than that… what did it mean for him that Arthas was dead? Certainly, Kael’thas had set aside his vengeance for the sake of his people, but… to find out that the Traitor Prince was already gone, that his ability to avenge his father and all of Quel’Thalas was gone with him… Kael didn’t know how to feel about that.
He did know one thing though. He wanted answers. It had taken every fiber of his being not to demand them from the orc. But he recognized that doing so would have given the greenskin more power over him than Kael would have preferred. And besides… why ask the orc for an explanation when he could go straight to the source instead?
Coming up on a rather beautiful tent in the joint camp made between his people, the orcs, and the Night Elves, Kael’thas Sunstrider smiles and nods his head to the two Night Elf Sentinels standing outside.
“Greetings. Please ask your High Priestess if she can spare me a moment of her time.”
The Sentinels exchange a glance at that, before one steps inside. The other takes up position in the middle of the tent’s opening, staring him down intensely, just waiting for him to give her an excuse to strike. Kael just continues smiling, until a few moments later the first Sentinel steps back out and taps her sister on the shoulder, giving him a single nod.
With that, he’s allowed to enter the High Priestess’ tent, finding her looming over a table, writing a quick letter. As he approaches, she finishes it and rolls it into a scroll before setting it aside and turning to face him.
“High Priestess Whisperwind, if I’m remembering correctly?”
Tyrande Whisperwind looks at him with eyes older than even his father’s ever were and slowly nods.
“Indeed. What can I do for you, Prince Sunstrider?”
Bowing just the right amount for a Prince to foreign royalty, Kael’thas straightens up and puts on his best gallant smile.
“Please, call me Kael’thas. We are kin in a way, are we not?”
Tyrande tilts her head to the side at that, quiet for a moment. Finally, she offers a soft… if regretful smile.
“We are, young Kael’thas. I imagine I would know more about that then you would. I still remember the day your ancestor Dath’Remar Sunstrider left our shores with the rest of the Highborne. We exiled your people from Kalimdor for their reckless pursuit of Arcane Magic, for fear that it would lead the Burning Legion right back to our world.”
Kael’thas finds himself stiffening at Tyrande’s words, if not her tone. She doesn’t sound accusatory… in fact, she sounds altogether wistful, especially as she glances off to the side, looking at nothing in particular.
“… I wonder now if the Legion’s return was inevitable. I wonder if the decisions we made… that I have made over these past ten thousand years… were mistakes. And I wonder what could have been if I’d done better.”
Taken aback by the High Priestess’ sudden turn for the melancholy, Kael’thas squirms for a moment.
“Err… well, I’m sure you’ve done the best you can with the information you had at hand. Nobody is perfect. Quel’Thalas was no better prepared for the Scourge’s coming, I’m afraid to say. My people fought bravely… but it was not enough.”
Hoping to steer Tyrande clear of any more moments of self-flagellation, Kael clears his throat.
“That’s actually why I came. I had hoped to ask you for more information about what that orc said before. Regarding Arthas Menethil’s death.”
The Priestess of Elune’s gaze snaps to Kael’thas at the mention of Arthas Menethil. Though the first thing out of her mouth is about the orc instead.
“That orc has a name, young one. He is Rognak, Chieftain of the Warsong Clan. He has as much right to his titles as you do your own.”
Kael’thas grimaces, both because he can tell he stepped in it on that one, and because most days he’s up late into the night, questioning if he DOES have any right to any of his titles anymore. But… someone has to lead his people. Someone has to try to save what remains of Quel’Thalas.
“Of course. My apologies.”
Tyrande softens a bit, pulling back minutely… before frowning again.
“What is it you would like to know regarding Arthas Menethil’s death?”
Finally. Kael’thas tries not to be too eager about it, but he can’t help leaning in just a bit.
“I wished to know the circumstances that led to his demise. Did he die badly, at least? Did he die screaming?”
For a moment, he thinks he might need to reign it in… but before he can apologize for his exuberance, Tyrande Whisperwind’s face splits into a frankly terrifying smile. She looks off again, this time clearly reminiscing as she answers him.
“The human prince died like the dog he was, Prince Kael’thas. Of that, you need not worry.”
A shiver runs down Kael’thas’ side. He’d seen the High Priestess fighting in the battle against the Nerubians from up above on his dragonhawk while he and his forces came to relieve her expedition. He could very well believe she was a dangerous warrior, on top of a beautiful woman and a Priestess of Elune. Even still… it sounded personal for Tyrande.
Throwing caution to the wind, Kael’thas blurts out what’s on his mind.
“Good. He killed my father. He massacred my people. He deserved nothing but the worst death for his crimes.”
Tyrande looks to him for a long moment… and finally nods.
“He killed someone close to me as well. And his Scourge, even if he was not their commander, were responsible for the… death of my mate.”
She grimaces at that last part, looking away. It’s obvious this isn’t easy for her. Kael’thas swallows past the lump in his throat, memories of the devastation wrought in Quel’Thalas by Arthas Menethil and his armies flitting through his head like hellish paintings, one after the other.
“… And you killed him? Slaughtered him like a dog?”
Tyrande hesitates but nods once more.
“I did. After he was slain, his body was burned to ashes in a funeral pyre overseen by the human mage Jaina Proudmoore.”
That brings Kael’thas up short. His eyes widen as he stops and just stares for a long moment.
“I’m… I’m sorry. Did you say Jaina Proudmoore? She was there? She’s on Kalimdor?”
Looking a little confused, Tyrande nevertheless nods yet again.
“Indeed. Lady Proudmoore and her troops were as crucial as Warchief Thrall and his Horde in the Battle for Mount Hyjal. There, Archimonde the Defiler was stopped once and for all… at great cost.”
Mount Hyjal. Where it was said that a second Well of Eternity lay hidden. Where his ancestors had once drawn their arcane power, before journeying across the sea to Quel’Thalas.
Kael’thas is smart enough not to mention that to Tyrande for now, but… he certainly files it away in the back of his mind as a distinct possibility for his people’s salvation. Perhaps if this joint venture goes exceptionally well, he might be able to entreat their ancient kin the Night Elves to help them after all. Tyrande HAD said she had regrets regarding his ancestors’ exile, so who could say for sure?
And to think… Jaina was on Kalimdor. She’d helped defeat Arthas AND the Burning Legion. Amazing to say the least. Though Kael did wonder what her father would think if he knew she’d fought alongside orcs, no matter the circumstances.
… Well, that was none of his business. No, Kael wasn’t going to touch that situation with a ten foot pole, thank you very much.
“It’s good to hear that she’s doing well. She and I were friends, once upon a time. And… it’s good to hear that even if it couldn’t be my hand that did the deed, that you, one of our ancient kin, dealt with the Traitor Prince once and for all. Arthas was a monster… and he deserved no less than to be put down like one.”
Tyrande hums and nods solemnly for a moment. Silence falls between them and Kael grasps for a conversation topic. In the end, his mind turns towards the most obvious.
“It still amazes me that you count orcs among your numbers. I can certainly understand that fighting the Burning Legion makes for strange bedfellows… but shapeshifting greenskins was not what I expected when I brought my people North. Are you confident they can be trusted, High Priestess? Even if they were victims of the Legion… the orc himself said that it was the Legion who were supporting the Scourge and this Lich King now, didn’t he? What if they fall back under their sway? Are you not worried?”
In an instant, Kael’thas knows that he’s gotten on Tyrande’s bad side, even though he felt like his words needed to be said. Still, the atmosphere in the tent turns even more chilled than it already was, and Tyrande herself suddenly looks at him with flinty eyes as she speaks with a cold tone.
“I am no more worried that Rognak and his Warsong Druids will fall back under the Legion’s sway… than I am that you and your people will submit to the Legion for power, Prince Sunstrider.”
Kael’thas stiffens at Tyrande’s words, a little offended. But the High Priestess isn’t done.
“After all… despite the crimes of Queen Azshara and many of the Highborne who served her during the War of the Ancients, despite the fact that they tried to sell out our world to the Legion for scraps off of the table… we did not condemn Lord Dath’Remar and the rest of the Highborne who had no part in Azshara’s madness. Not until an arcane storm was ‘accidentally’ manifested over the forest of Ashenvale did we act, and even then the punishment was only exile.”
Wincing, Kael’thas decides then and there that he’s overstayed his welcome. He didn’t expect the Night Elf Priestess to be such a… proponent of her orc allies, but he supposed he should have. She had, after all, stepped up almost immediately to defend Rognak when they’d first met. But he’d figured that was just post-battle adrenaline talking. Now he realized it ran deeper than that.
“… I see your point, High Priestess. Apologies if I’ve offended in any way. Perhaps I should take my leave now, and we can talk again later.”
Tyrande’s gaze continues to be flinty as she sharply nods at him.
“Perhaps you should.”
No confirmation that they might speak once more later… but Kael’thas takes what he can get, retreating with his head held high. He’s learned quite a lot as it is… and even if the presence of this Rognak and his fellow orcs still unsettles the Prince something fierce, Kael’thas knows for a fact that he’ll sleep like a babe tonight all the same.
Regardless of their current location and the likelihood that they’re surrounded on all sides by their enemies… he’ll sleep better than he has in months knowing that Arthas Menethil is dead and ash, and his people have, at least partially, been avenged.
Now all that was left was to finish the job.
-x-X-x-
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