Meanwhile, near the dilapidated watchtower, Tirion Fordring was engaged in heated negotiations with Thrall's Strategist Eitrigg.
"Tirion Fordring, though you were once a despicable and treacherous lackey of Orgrimmar, thankfully the Savior Thrall is magnanimous. He is willing to spare you and your Hearthglen, requiring only a small request: half the population of Hearthglen, and your young wife and son. For the Redemption of Azeroth, the Orcs need your Consecration."
"What are you talking about?" Tirion Fordring was stunned, then angrily questioned, "How can you make such an unreasonable request?"
"Ha! Tirion Fordring, you have no other choice."
Eitrigg said grimly, "We Orcs are a noble race, the Saviors of Azeroth. What, in order to protect Azeroth, are you unwilling to sacrifice your lowly wife and children?"
"What does this have to do with saving Azeroth?"
Tirion Fordring was furious; anyone would be enraged by such an unreasonable demand.
"Tirion Fordring, watch your words. We Orcs are the Saviors of Azeroth. Are you doubting the Guardian's prophecy? We are noble Orcs, and you humans are all lowly and deserving of death. You should be grateful for the mercy bestowed upon you by Thrall, the Savior. You should be thankful. Without us Orcs, Azeroth would be destined for destruction."
"No! No, the Guardian can't be wrong." Tirion Fordring realized he had misspoke, his tone hesitant. "But my wife and children are just ordinary humans; they don't need to pay such a price."
Eitrigg sensed Tirion Fordring's weakness, and his smugness grew. He continued his aggressive press, pressuring Tirion Fordring, and asked with a wide grin:
"What, you think it's an honor to warm the Savior's stomach with the flesh and blood of your wife and son? How can Thrall, who is starving and hungry, save the Azeroth Continent?"
"I will absolutely not agree to this unreasonable demand, no matter what." Tirion Fordring was furious; he couldn't allow his family to be harmed—that was his bottom line.
Eitrigg was smug; he had successfully provoked Tirion Fordring.
Although this wasn't the best outcome he wanted, it was still a decent result.
The Guardian Medivh wanted to preserve some humans in the land of Lordaeron, mainly in the territories of the Silver Hand generals, after all, they had made contributions, and this was something Medivh had promised them.
But Thrall didn't think that way; to eliminate future threats, he wanted to wipe out all of humanity.
If we can successfully provoke Tirion Fordring make him an enemy of the Orcs, then destroying Hearthglen will be perfectly justified, and even the Guardian Medivh won't be able to object.
This demonstrates Thrall's brilliant wisdom: using every scheme to reduce the human population.
Of course, the best outcome would be for Tirion Fordring to voluntarily sacrifice the people of Hearthglen in exchange for the survival of his own family. For a lord to do this willingly is a sign of high moral character.
As for Medivh, the Guardian, there's even less to say.
The weak have no choice; destruction is Justice.
"Heh heh heh, Tirion Fordring, haven't you grasped the situation yet?"
Eitrigg stepped forward, suddenly grabbed Tirion Fordring by the neck, and slapped him hard across the face, knocking out several of Tirion Fordring's teeth and swelling up half of his face.
"You have absolutely no right to negotiate with us Orcs."
Eitrigg grabbed the stunned Tirion Fordring, slammed his face into the ground, and rubbed it hard. "Tirion Fordring, put away your cunning. To us Orcs, it's worthless. We Orcs only care about profit."
"You probably don't know how much I mean to Thrall. If I say one word, all your efforts and compromises will be in vain, and Hearthglen is destined to be destroyed by your hands." Eitrigg stomped hard on Tirion Fordring's head.
Tirion Fordring realized that Eitrigg was asking for a bribe.
"What do you want?" Tirion Fordring, who dared not antagonize the Orcs, asked with difficulty, though he was holding back.
"What I want is..." Eitrigg whispered in Tirion Fordring's ear.
Tirion Fordring's head spun. "Are you Demons Eitrigg?"
"Heh, history is always written by the victors. Whatever I did to humanity doesn't matter; foolish descendants will only acknowledge lies and consider me the noblest Orcs, second only to Savior, Thrall savior. And you, Tirion Fordring, you and your people of Lordaeron will be the jinx of this world, destined for eternal infamy and universal scorn. In your eyes, am I not noble, Tirion Fordring!"
"To hell with your nobility!" Tirion Fordring finally lost his temper. He jumped up and punched Eitrigg.
Eitrigg touched his broken face, giving Tirion Fordring, who had drawn his sword, a disdainful look.
"Do you want to be an enemy of the Orcs? Do you want to be an enemy of Azeroth? Do you want to destroy the world, Tirion Fordring, you shameless sinner, you despicable the Destroyer, you will pay for your crimes."
Eitrigg wasn't Tirion Fordring. He knew that this man, despite his seniority and status as one of the original five Paladins who founded the Silver Hand, was actually a complete fraud, with strength only on par with his own.
He grabbed the Battle Axe he had prepared beforehand and carefully circled around Tirion Fordring.
Tirion Fordring rushed forward in a somewhat flustered manner, his anger causing his attacks to falter. Eitrigg easily dodged Tirion Fordring's first wave of attacks and continued to provoke Tirion Fordring's mind with words:
"Tirion Fordring, you lowly creatures, humans, are unworthy to live in Azeroth. When you had the chance to annihilate us, you chose mercy—how naively laughable! Even more pathetic is that the destruction of Lordaeron will not teach you enough a lesson. Perish, you pitiful humans."
Eitrigg raised his Battle Axe and swung it down, forcing Tirion Fordring to parry. It was unwise to fight an Orcs, Tirion Fordring quickly paid the price for his panic; the Battle Axe sliced across his chest, leaving a shallow wound.
Blood splattered.
The pain instantly brought Tirion Fordring to his senses, and he finally realized that the Orcs were deliberately provoking him.
Years of combat experience allowed Tirion Fordring to gradually calm down. He knew exactly how to fight an Orcs Veteran and how to use the sustained power of the Holy Light to deal with him.
On the Battlefield, Orcs with their explosive power can easily win, but in a one-on-one duel, the Holy Light's powerful endurance becomes an advantage.
Tirion Fordring's longsword emitted a golden light, and the wound on his chest was slowly healing.
He was in no hurry to engage the Orcs in direct combat; instead, he used the power of the Holy Light to wear down Orcs stamina.
Orcs skillfully deflected several waves of fierce Tirion Fordring attacks. Eitrigg sensed Tirion Fordring's will; although his strength was not great, his rich combat experience made up for his shortcomings.
"You're exhausted, Orcs." This time it was Tirion Fordring's turn to distract Eitrigg.
Eitrigg is old after all, and it's difficult for him to enter a berserk state. Even when he does, the power is limited.
In Eitrigg's momentary panic, Tirion Fordring seized the opportunity to launch an attack, gathering all his strength for a fierce assault. Eitrigg's power weakened, and he struggled to defend himself, retreating step by step. Tirion Fordring pressed on relentlessly, delivering a skillful strike that landed on the Orcs's thigh.
The Orcs grunted, lost his footing, and fell into the mud, leaving the front door wide open.
Tirion Fordring was about to step forward and end the Orcs's life, but his concerns made him hesitate.
He was afraid.