In a daze, King Varian felt himself being bound tightly and dragged into the basement. A guard asked:
"Should we send this traitor to the Stockade?"
Varian was shocked. How had he become a traitor?
General Marcus kicked Varian hard, and said with disgust:
"Forget it, they'll just be turned into Tough Jerky by the guards in the Stockade anyway. Why let them get away with it? The brothers haven't eaten for days, they're starving. Tonight we'll have meat soup."
The soldier exclaimed in surprise, "General, you are so kind! We brothers are starving and dizzy! How many are there already? How dare you impersonate the great King Varian?"
General Marcus said admiringly:
"Yes, our King is incredibly great and radiant, illuminating each and every one of us. His brilliance rivals that of the sun and moon, yet there are always villains who impersonate him and tarnish King reputation—a truly unforgivable crime. This is the forty-ninth one."
It turned out to be a misunderstanding.
Varian gradually regained consciousness and was trying to discern something; he had enough evidence to prove that he was the true King of Stormwind City.
Before Varian could say anything, the soldier skillfully pried open Varian mouth. Varian felt a chill at the base of his tongue, followed by a sharp pain.
His tongue was cut off!
Varian was in so much pain he almost fainted, completely dumbfounded, and unable to utter a sound.
Marcus nodded. "Well done, at least he's not yelling. I'll go get the Priest to help stop the bleeding. We need to feed this man for three days; he can't just die like this."
Not long after, a Priest entered the basement and helped Varian stop the bleeding. The tongue was given to him as a token of gratitude, and the Priest left with a broad smile.
"Damn General Marcus, why are you treating your King like this?"
Varian, consumed by hatred, lay weakly in a pile of moldy straw, utterly despondent.
Time passed quickly, and as night fell, Varian was dragged out.
Inside a large room, more than fifty soldiers were gathered, each one skin and bones, staggering as they walked, drooling as they stared at Varian.
In the center of the large room, a large pot of water was boiling. General Marcus said solemnly:
"Praise be to the great King Varian, who brought us a prosperous and happy life. Without King Varian, we would have been wiped out by the Orcs long ago."
The soldiers bowed their heads and said in unison, with utmost reverence:
"Praise be to the great King Varian."
General Marcus pointed at Varian and said:
"This is a shameless villain who dared to impersonate the great King Varian and blaspheme the Kingdom of Stormwind. Today we will devour his flesh and blood; this is what he deserves."
A soldier wielding a giant axe stepped forward and forcefully chopped off Varian's arms. Priest then rushed forward to stop the bleeding, and the arms were thrown into a pot to boil.
There wasn't enough meat for everyone, so the soldiers added some wheat bran, tree bark, and grass roots, and boiled it into a large pot of soup.
The Kingdom of Stormwind was so impoverished that the guards of Stormwind City had long since run out of food and were even reluctant to eat Varian all at once.
The poor soldiers each received only a small piece of meat, which they ate with grass roots and tree bark, and they all looked quite content.
After dinner, the soldiers dispersed, leaving only General Marcus in the room.
Marcus looked down at Varian and said coldly:
"During the reigns of the Black Dragon Princess and Duke Bolvar, at least we had enough to eat. What a great King, look what he brought us!"
"So he knew everything all along; he did it on purpose!"
Varian had lost both arms, whimpered and couldn't speak. Marcus knelt down and looked at him. "I don't know what happened, but your suffering has only just begun. This is what you owe."
The next morning, in the dark basement, Varian suddenly heard cheers.
The sound came in through the windows above, and the soldiers ran around, shouting excitedly:
"Undercity has won a great victory! The great King Varian has returned!"
"King Varian Execute millions of the Burning Legion in Undercity, defeated Kil'jaeden with a single blow, repelled the Burning Legion's invasion, and saved Azeroth."
"Quickly, prepare to welcome King Varian."
Varian awoke with a start. He had been lying in the basement waiting to die, so why was there a welcoming ceremony?
The soldiers were busy moving around, and no one noticed the prisoners in the basement.
Seeing that the basement door was ajar, Varian struggled to his feet, carefully avoiding the patrolling soldiers, and climbed a nearby tower, leaning against the wall and panting heavily.
Before long, a series of booming cannon salutes rang out, and a large group of soldiers in gleaming armor led the way, with countless banners waving in the wind.
A man sat atop a tall, brightly colored horse, clad in golden armor. Varian was immediately terrified upon seeing him.
It looked exactly like me.
The King, riding on horseback, smiled confidently and waved frequently to the soldiers and people on both sides, who cheered wildly.
"It's fake, he's an imposter."
Varian shouted in his heart, but no sound came out. As the King's procession passed by, Varian bit his lip hard and jumped off the tower without hesitation.
Unfortunately, Varian landed right in front of the new King. Although he was dazed and confused, he still managed to lift his head.
The instant his eyes met Varian's on horseback, a jumble of memories flooded his mind.
"So, we were all imposters, all imposters. The real Varian died long ago."
Varian finally closed his eyes, thinking he was dead.
During the grand ceremony welcoming the King's victorious return, an assassin who had lost both arms jumped from the tower, nearly startling the King's horse.
The guards quickly stepped forward and dragged away the assassin, who had suffered Hamstring. The little incident was over in no time.
In his dazed state, Varian heard the sounds of arguing, one of which was the voice of Emissary:
"I promised I would find Varian. Why are you looking for a substitute in Parallel Worlds? Do you know the consequences of interfering too much with Parallel Worlds?"
Another, completely unfamiliar voice said coldly:
"This is all your fault for being incompetent. You lost the King of Stormwind City. The Alliance needs a leader to provide the Orcs with food and protection. This guy is useless now. Heal his wounds and send him back. Hopefully, this will help to stop the excessive interference with the Parallel Worlds."
Although he didn't understand what had happened, Varian knew he was alive.
Varian awoke from his coma. Although he was recovering from a serious illness and his body was weak and limp, his body was intact, and a jumble of memories flooded his mind.
This world has no Orcs invasions, nor the Scourge or the Forsaken.
Varian was the sixth son of King Llane. Although he was only sixth in line to the King and had virtually no hope of inheriting it, he was still a pampered Prince.
A serious illness left him in a coma for a long time, but fortunately, Archbishop Benedictus prayed to the Holy Light and was cured.
That brief experience King, the hideous Orcs and the rotting Forsaken, felt like a dream. Varian couldn't figure out what had happened, but he was grateful to still be alive.
It is better to be a good citizen in a prosperous era than King in a chaotic one.
A few days later, Varian had recovered well and was able to walk in the garden when he was suddenly summoned by King Llane.