King Varian was notoriously stubborn, and it was extremely difficult to persuade him.
King Greymane cautiously probed:
"The matter being discussed by the Horde leaders may be related to Garrosh."
Varian, feeling sleepy, yawned and said, "I don't want to hear Garrosh's name again. Let's talk about it tomorrow."
Greymane had no choice but to take his leave.
Late at night, the dock was quiet, with only patrolling guards occasionally passing by.
Suddenly, a strange vortex appeared in the sky, Anduin, enveloped in golden Holy Light, descended from the heavens.
Anduin landed unharmed, alarms sounded at the dock camp, and a large group of guards surrounded him.
Upon seeing that they were Stormwind City guards, Anduin his heart. He intended to use Holy Light to teleport away, but found that the Power of the Holy Light was leaving him.
Several Orcs in the crowd sneered at Anduin.
Anduin, who wields powerful Holy Light, has become a thorn in Varian's side.
Last time, SI:7 used the three brothers of Lakeshire to drive away Velen and Anduin, which gave Varian hope. So he hired a few Orcs guards, treated them well, and they didn't have to do anything except deal with Anduin.
"Who is it?" Varian, wearing a nightgown, arrived surrounded by a group of guards.
An officer reported, "Your King, it is Prince Anduin."
Hiding behind several Orcs, Varian looked at Anduin, who was trembling with nervousness, and waved his hand, saying:
"Prince Anduin is safely in Stormwind City. This is a fraudster who dares to impersonate Prince. Guards, seize him! I want to interrogate him tonight."
Several Orcs stepped forward and subdued Anduin. One Orcs tucked him under his arm and imprisoned him in the dock's dungeon.
Anduin sat between two strong Orcs, the pungent stench of their sweat assaulting his senses, making his stomach churn and almost causing him to vomit.
Varian, accompanied by his trusted aides, entered the dungeon, observed Anduin's aggrieved expression, and asked:
How would you rate Orcs?
Anduin replied, "Orcs are the finest race in Azeroth; they are kind, brave, good, intelligent, and clean."
Varian raised an eyebrow, unsurprised. "You know, Anduin, if you tell a lie too often, you'll start to believe it yourself. There are no outsiders here, so my son and I can speak the truth. You actually hate Orcs, don't you?"
Anduin trying to explain when the Orcs on his left raised his fist and punched Anduin in the face, interrupting him.
"How did it taste like to be punched by Orcs?" Varian laughed happily. "I've already planned it all out. Tomorrow morning I'll feed you to the Orcs, fulfilling your long-held dream. Then I'll find a young man who looks just like you to replace you. Prince Anduin is just an identity; anyone can become you."
Anduin's face turned deathly pale, and he stammered, "You can't kill me."
The Orcs on the right punched Anduin hard in the face.
Anduin understood something and quickly said, "Father, I know a great secret about Garrosh and Draenor World."
Varian smiled smugly. Anduin wanted to live, he would have to offer up enough secrets in exchange.
In order to make Anduin vomit more, Varian deliberately said:
"Velen told me everything. He also confessed that you conspired with Garrosh to destroy Azeroth, so I have reason to execute you in public, but I don't want to bring shame upon the House Wrynn."
Anduin said anxiously, "Velen certainly didn't say that Ogres rule the Warsong Clan Tribe."
Varian was somewhat disappointed. "If that's all, then let's end our conversation here tonight."
"No, no, Father, I know more than Velen," Anduin pleaded.
Tell me about it.
Anduin difficulty:
"We found an Orcs by a spring named Gremi the Escape Expert, a wanderer of the Warsong Clan. I found a Magic Beacon on him."
Varian smiled and said, "That's not surprising. I've known for a long time that the Ogres of Draenor World can use magic."
Anduin shook his head. "At first I didn't pay much attention, but the next day I realized something was wrong. Geromi's Magic Beacon was coming from Dalaran."
"Dalaran?" Varian murmured to himself.
Fearing Varian might not understand, Anduin tried to explain:
"Human magic originates from the High Elves of Silvermoon City. The Magic Beacon, improved by the Dalaran Mages, has its own unique characteristics. When Jaina was alive, she showed me the Dalaran Magic Beacon and explained in detail the slight differences from the original."
This is extraordinary intelligence. How could magic from Dalaran exist in the Draenor World thirty-five years ago?
"Does Velen know?" Varian asked.
Anduin shook his head. "Velen doesn't understand the peculiarities of Dalaran magic."
"That's funny, but it's not a reason for you to live," Varian said fiercely.
To save his life, Anduin had no choice but to lie. "The Bronze Dragonflight Kairoz was worried that having two Velens in Draenor World would cause unforeseen consequences, so he refused Velens's participation. But I'm different. I have Garrosh's deep trust and rushed back to Azeroth to help Garrosh open the Dark Portal."
Varian's face darkened. "Then we can't let you live even more."
Anduin sighed:
"Father, don't you understand? It's still uncertain who will win between Garrosh's Iron Horde and Azeroth. Only if I survive can I leave you a way out."
Varian thought about it carefully for a long time, and finally nodded, agreeing to postpone Anduin.
On the Deadwind Pass near Duskwood, Thrall gazed at the towering Mage Tower of Karazhan before him, a sense of unease creeping into his heart.
This is where he spent his childhood, his first love, and the person he hated most; those memories of the past flooded back to him.
All the beautiful and unpleasant memories have now faded into the past.
Even in the most difficult times, Thrall refused to ask Medivh for help.
The proud Medivh never Mercy to the defeated, but the Garrosh affair had gotten out of control, Thrall felt it necessary to let Medivh know the details.
If Thrall can gain Medivh's support, Thrall chances of survival will greatly increase.
Upon entering Karazhan Medivh Thrall the library.
Countless books flew through the air, their pages rustling rapidly as Medivh seemed to be immersed in the joy of reading.
Nothing had changed, Thrall chuckled to himself.
Thrall had long known that Medivh couldn't see the words on the pages using this method; he was just putting on an act to appear different.
Medivh waited cautiously to the side until late at night before turning around to examine the ravenously hungry Thrall.
"Is something the matter?" Medivh asked.
Thrall cautiously stepped forward and said, "Honorable Guardian, Garrosh has escaped from the Temple of the White Tiger."
Thrall recounted in detail Garrosh's journey into Draenor thirty-five years prior, and his plot to create the Iron Horde.
Medivh's expression remained indifferent, as if he were listening to an unrelated story from the past.
But Thrall read something different in the depths of Medivh's eyes: a resentful anger and jealousy.
Thrall made a reasonable deduction: Medivh was not involved in this astonishing plan; he was not part of it.
Medivh rested his elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together, and after a long moment of Anjing thought, whispered:
"I have a disciple whose name is Khadgar."