The Kingdom of Stormwind would not welcome a two-headed Ogre, Velen transformed into a strong Kul Tiras and disembarked by ship from the Stormwind City docks.
The moment their feet touched the ground, messengers of the Peace Dove arrived to meet them. A small figure peeked around, looking in all directions, and whispered to Velen:
"Distinguished guest, please follow me."
The two entered Stormwind City's Old Town, a maze of winding alleys, the stench of rotting fish mixed with the smell of excrement, and stinking ditches everywhere.
The short man muttered, "The Old Town is about to be redeveloped, and most people have already moved away. Since the King left, Stormwind City has always been slow-moving. Without war, taxes have been significantly reduced, and people's lives are a bit better, but it always feels like something is missing."
"We're missing a King." Velen nimbly weaved through the rubbish.
The short man nodded. "That's right, how can we function without King? It always feels empty inside. Some people have suggested that we must elect a King, but we're worried about encountering a fool."
Passing through a dilapidated house, the little man touched his nose and said, "People say that being King makes you stupid."
Velen chuckled inwardly. The so-called King becoming stupid was simply due to a difference in the starting point of interests: whether it was for his own luxurious enjoyment or for the sake of the country and its people, he needed to find a balance between the two.
"How many Peace Doves are there in Stormwind City?" Velen asked, without much hope.
The short man didn't hide anything and said enthusiastically, "Everyone around me is Peace Dove. Lady Jaina has returned, and some say she will become King. Who knows? It's better than no King at all. Many nobles are on our side. To be honest, I support Jaina becoming King."
Velen feigned surprise and asked, "Don't you know what Jaina did?"
The short man shrugged and said, "It's just an honor for us to feed humans to the Orcs. If it were my turn, I would clean myself up and chop myself up without hesitation. After all, the Orcs have saved Azeroth time and time again."
Velen looked down on the short man from the bottom of his heart, but he put on an expression of admiration.
The shorter man added, "I've heard that the Draenei also enjoy being eaten by the Orcs. Prophet Velen has been on the Orcs' dinner table more than once, his bones even chewed to pieces."
Velen was frustrated; he wanted to say that this was a rumor spread by the Peace Dove.
The short man had no idea that the Kul Tiras before him was the Prophet Velen, Velen new identity was the knight Cyrus, a confidant of the late Admiral Daelin.
After confirming once again that no one was following them, the short man led Velen into a basement, where a human man dressed in black robes had been waiting for some time. Judging from the dense shadowy aura and the stench of sulfur in the surroundings, the man was likely a Demons Warlock.
The man stood up to greet him; his face was thin, and his sharp eyes shone with an eagle-like light. He carefully examined Velen, his voice hoarse:
"Welcome, Grand Knight Cyrus. I am the Undead, Maiven Anlov, a Demons Warlock."
Before Velen could say anything, Maiven's gaze fell on the short man, and he asked seriously, "Are you ready?"
The short man, leaning on the table, his thin body trembling like a leaf, stammered, "Sir, if possible—I mean, I wish..."
Maiwen raised his right hand and shot out a purple light. The little man's mouth gaped open, his face contorted in pain, but he couldn't make a sound and collapsed limply to the ground.
Absorbing fragments of souls, Velen was bewildered, not understanding why the short man had to be executed.
Maiwen took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands and explained, "Only the dead keep secrets. There are plenty of trash like the Peace Dove; they're just disposable."
As always, Velen Peace Dove sat astride himself, asking, "What are Jaina's plans?"
Maiven lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "Lady Jaina has a grand plan called the Enslavement of Azeroth's Humans. The people of Kingdom of Stormwind are about to become slaves of the Orcs. Those Orcs will tear our bodies apart and eat us piece by piece. Haha, just thinking about it is exciting."
"Very good." Velen said calmly, "The people of Stormwind City should be happy to become food for the Orcs."
Maiwen suddenly became agitated. "No, no, there are always some bad elements who reject this great honor and resist our good intentions. A bunch of fools, thankfully they believe in the Holy Light."
You mean the Holy Light?
"Of course, faith in the Holy Light is humanity's weakness. They don't realize that the Holy Light is a powerful tool for enslavement, and we must put shackles on them," Maiwen said enthusiastically.
Velen recalled the Holy Light Edict, which, within the realm of Holy Light, was merely the most basic form of enslavement magic.
"We're in trouble," Maiven said seriously. "Archbishop Benedictus is back, and we need your help to deal with him."
Velen's heart skipped a beat, realizing this task was no easy feat, but he confidently replied, "It's easy."
The return of Archbishop Benedictus was a major event in the Kingdom of Stormwind. There were rumors that the Archbishop was the leader of the Twilight's Hammer, the mysterious Father of Twilight, and a Deathwing. As time passed, the people no longer cared so much. On the day the Archbishop preached, the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind City was packed with people.
Velen squeezed among a group of Kul Tiras, trying not to stand out. Benedictus's sermons were always concise, consisting of routine procedures.
When the ceremony of praising the Holy Light began, Velen and the crowd chanted words of praise in unison.
The gentle Power of the Holy Light flowed into the church, nourishing the body and mind of everyone present.
The praise of the people may resonate with the Holy Light, though the chance is very low, and it has the effects of healing injuries and illnesses, delaying aging, and strengthening the body.
Velen initially didn't think much of it, but he soon noticed something was wrong.
When these Holy Lights enter the body, they clash with the Holy Light already present within, like a frog mixed in with a group of toads, instinctively generating a force of resistance.
"This is... Unholy Holy Light."
Velen looked around nervously and saw that the faces of the people were enveloped in a light that was even more effective than pure Holy Light.
"This is blasphemy against the Holy Light, unforgivable." A surge of anger welled up in Velen's chest.
Benedictus is not alone; a large number of priests, priests, Priest are preaching everywhere. It is foreseeable that before long, the people of Kingdom of Stormwind will all be exposed to the unclean Holy Light.
No wonder Jaina wanted to kill him.
Velen frowned. Benedictus had to be dealt with, but how should he proceed?
Assassination, poisoning.
The chances of success against an archbishop who wields powerful Power of the Holy Light are extremely slim.
The only way is to outsmart them.
It is clearly impossible to do this on my own; I must rely on the help of a powerful person.
According to intelligence from the Peace Dove, King Genn Greymane of Gilneas is secretly eyeing the King of Stormwind City.
Benedictus is infamous, and although the nobles and commoners of Stormwind City can't do anything about him, things would be different if Greymane were to intervene.
Velen carefully considered his options and devised a detailed plan.
After Sylvanas's fall, Greymane led his people back to Gilneas and rebuilt their homeland from the ruins.
Vast tracts of land in Lordaeron are unclaimed, Greymane has ambitions to expand, but is hampered by a lack of population.
On this day, Gilneas City welcomed an unexpected guest.