Inside an abandoned house on Felstone Field, Arthas, disheveled and unkempt, lit a fire in the fireplace.
Robbie pushed open the dilapidated door. He had gathered a large bundle of firewood and caught a rabbit to roast and eat, but he saw that Arthas still hadn't lit a fire.
Unfortunately, Prince Highness had been pampered since childhood and was obsessed with the training of Paladin, honing his combat skills and court etiquette. This seemingly simple task was particularly difficult for him.
Robbie had no choice but to take over, and soon the fire was blazing.
Arthas stood aside, sullenly tending to the rabbit. He had tried to learn how to start a fire many times, but he just couldn't do it right.
The rabbit meat was chopped and smoked on the stove. A rusty pot was found in the kitchen, and the rabbit bones were stewed into a soup. With magical bread made from the staff, Robbie and Arthas had a fairly satisfactory breakfast.
The soup was bland, the bitter taste of rust was hard to remove, and the rabbit meat wasn't particularly delicious, but you can't expect too much in this time and place.
"What you are doing is wrong."
An Undead emerged from the ground, wearing a tattered top hat, and laboriously crawled in through the window.
"In the past, whenever the Silver Hand saw smoke coming from someone's chimney, they would come and steal their food, capture people, and send them to the Orcs to be made into military rations." The Undead picked up a rabbit bone from the ground and installed it on his ribs.
The Undead were unaware of Arthas's abilities, and could communicate with the Restless Souls at any time. Guided by the Restless Souls, they could easily evade the Silver Hand and the Orcs.
"Back then Silver Hand was still relatively benevolent; they generally ignored us Undead."
"And now?" Arthas asked.
"The Silver Hand and the Orcs are slaughtering us everywhere. They claim we've committed unforgivable crimes, that we're sinners, and that we'll destroy Azeroth in the future." The Undead shrugged and laughed, "Look at us, barely surviving in this wretched state. How could we possibly destroy the world?"
"If you want to find fault, you can always find a pretext." Robbie concluded.
"Although you have become Undead, you are still citizens of Lordaeron. You remember the crimes they committed, and to cover it up and protect their own reputation, they had no choice but to kill to silence witnesses."
Arthas gritted his teeth in hatred, constantly adding firewood to the furnace as if he were burning the bones of Orcs and the Order of the Silver Hand.
There are four factions tracking Arthas in Lordaeron: the Order of the Silver Hand led by Uther, Thrall's Orcs Legion, Sylvanas's Elf rangers, and Jaina's Peace Dove.
Unfortunately, Arthas was like a drop of water falling into the ocean, disappearing without a trace.
Unable to find Arthas, these four forces have largely gathered around Andorhal, waiting for the full moon night when Arthas meets Kel'Thuzad, so they can wipe them out in one fell swoop.
Robbie and Arthas had been lingering near Andorhal for a long time, but unfortunately, four forces had surrounded them tightly, blocking all passages.
For a moment, neither of them was at a loss. Fortunately, there was still some time before the full moon, and hopefully something unexpected would happen.
The Undead stared at Arthas for a moment, then suddenly removed his top hat and bowed respectfully.
"So it's Your Highness Prince Arthas. It's an honor to meet you. Let me introduce myself. I am Lord Marrowgar. Oh, in my previous life, I was just an insignificant minor lord. You probably don't recognize me, but I saw you once from afar at a court gathering."
"It's truly delightful to see old friends again. I fondly remember the wonderful times in Lordaeron." Arthas nodded. "By the way, did you never resist the Orcs and the Silver Hand?"
Lord Marrowgar scratched his head and said with a wry smile, "Our physical strength is less than half of what it used to be. We can't carry anything on our shoulders, and we can't run fast. We're simply powerless to resist. We can only try to hide ourselves."
Arthas sighed. For the weak, resistance is a luxury.
Robbie stared at Lord Marrowgar, noticing something, and said to Arthas:
"Prince Highness, I don't know if you've noticed, but the Undead we've encountered along the way are far stronger and purer than those of the living. Perhaps this isn't a coincidence."
Arthas thought about it carefully, and then carefully examined Lord Marrowgar. Robbie was absolutely right.
"For every loss, there is a gain."
Arthas said calmly, without making any connection to the subject.
Robbie, however, was keenly aware of what this meant!
Rune Casting requires sufficiently strong mental power, and few living people meet this requirement.
However, most Undead can reach the required level of spiritual power.
"Perhaps we can try to arm them." Robbie conjured a Blood Rune in his hand. "Lord Marrowgar, do you wish to grow stronger alongside your Undead brethren?"
Malogar stared at the Blood Runes and suddenly became excited.
"What is this? I feel a powerful force calling to me."
"These are called Blood Runes." Robbie then conjured Frost and Evil Runes in succession. "There are three Runes in total. How to combine and use them is something you'll have to discover for yourselves. They should make you stronger."
Arthas hesitated for a moment, but since he had nothing else to do, he and Robbie taught Malogar how to condense and use the three Runes of the Dead.
Malogar learned quickly, and as the three Runes condensed, a brilliant light shone in Malogar's dark eye sockets.
"This is power, Prince Arthas. What do you need us to do?"
"Pass it on to all the Undead, and then, learn to resist and protect yourselves, and survive."
Arthas didn't hold out much hope. In the Prince's mind, this would at most cause some minor trouble for the Orcs and the Silver Hand, some insignificant annoyances, nothing more.
Prince Highness was unaware that many significant historical events were accomplished unintentionally.
"The fourth Rune is called Scourge, which can bring the dead back to life. It requires even stronger mental power. If any of you were mages in life, or have exceptionally strong mental power by nature, you can try learning it."
Arthas demonstrated to Malogar how the Scourge Runes were formed.
Three Runes circled around Malogar, and the Undead showed a grateful expression:
"Prince Highness, to be honest, we Undead are not a disorganized mob; the Cult of the Damned binds us together. What you have taught me will soon spread throughout Lordaeron; it is a power that can change our Destiny. Kel'Thuzad said that only you can bring hope and Redemption to Lordaeron, but frankly, we Undead do not believe it, thinking you as incompetent and foolish as King Terenas."
"Now, on behalf of all the Undead, I swear that you are our King. Lordaeron, upholding Justice, recognizes only you, King Arthas Menethil."
Arthas shrugged, offering a dismissive wry smile. "I am honored to be the new King."
"Your King, await our good news."
Malogar hurriedly left, disappearing underground.
This time, he was much more nimble, almost as quick as a living person.
"There's an old saying in my hometown, 'Prince Arthas,'" Robbie said seriously.
"A single spark can start a prairie fire."
At this point, Arthas still didn't realize that the world was about to be changed by his hand.
"I should still devise a plan on how to enter Andorhal." Arthas pondered carefully.
"Perhaps we can go find Jaina."