Uther slammed his fist on the table again, his anger barely contained, and roared, "Your so-called treatment is forcing the Orcs to fend for themselves! Don't you know they're weakened?"
Prestor calmly explained, "I have a solution. By diluting the Pit Lord's blood to a specific dosage, I can ensure the Orcs recovers from its weakness without going berserk."
"You are treating the noble Orcs like slaves!" Uther gritted his teeth, trembling with rage. "The Orcs created a magnificent civilization, and you treat them like this? By the Holy Light, Azeroth will never allow such a despicable thing to happen! Your King, will you allow it?"
King Terenas said firmly, "Hearing of the Orcs' suffering is like a knife twisting in my heart. Lord Prestor, I respect you, but there is absolutely no room for negotiation on this matter."
Prestor snorted coldly:
"King Majesty, Lordaeron is now at its wit's end. If we don't find a way out, you and your people will starve to death. Are you going to just stand by and watch Lordaeron perish?"
Uther leaped onto the table and roared, "I'd rather all of humanity perish than allow any Orcs to suffer even the slightest injustice. This is my belief, and I'm willing to risk everything!"
King Terenas's face darkened, and he murmured, "I will find a way to overcome this difficulty. First and foremost, we must ensure the Orcs are well-fed; that is of utmost importance. As for the common people, there must be other ways out."
"It's utterly absurd and ridiculous that a human King would love Orcs more than his own people."
Lord Prestor turned and walked away.
Terenas turned to Robbie: "Honorable envoy, as you can see, I have great respect for Lord Prestor and offered excellent advice on the handling of the Kingdom of Alterac. However, I truly cannot understand why he harbors such hatred for the Orcs. All righteous people of Azeroth should recognize the kindness and compassion of the Orcs."
Robbie asked incredulously, "I can't understand why you're so obsessed with Orcs."
Terenas looked puzzled. "Why would you ask such a foolish question? You must have a misunderstanding about Orcs. They are so noble and kind. No race in Azeroth can compare to Orcs. As for lowly humans, they are not even worthy of being food for Orcs."
"You're human too!" Robbie reminded him.
Terenas said with deep sorrow, "I am ashamed to be human."
Robbie said, enunciating each word clearly, "You are a disgrace to humanity."
Surprisingly, neither Terenas nor Uther were angry; as long as the Orcs weren't insulted, attacks against them were tolerable.
King Terenas shrugged and said helplessly, "Your Excellency, I suggest you stay in Lordaeron for a while and make contact with the Orcs. I believe that soon you will come to like these superior beings as I have; they are truly outstanding."
Since they couldn't see eye to eye, Robbie didn't want to get entangled with him and left with Krasus.
"Incredible, that old geezer Terenas." Robbie found it hard to understand.
Krasus, what's your opinion on this? Do you support the Orcs?
Krasus hesitated for a long time, then said with difficulty:
"If it were me at this moment, I would be filled with reverence for the Orcs. It's strange to think about it now. All living beings are easily influenced by the atmosphere. The Dalaran Mages are particularly afraid of the Orcs. Everyone speaks highly of the Orcs, and a few outliers are subjected to verbal attacks from the crowd."
"But who can influence the high and mighty King Terenas?" Robbie was full of questions.
"This is due to historical reasons." A deep voice rang out; it was Lord Prestor.
Lord Prestor, also known as Deathwing, said as he walked:
"The House Menethil are not native to Lordaeron. With the help of the Guardian Aegwynn, they rose from fishermen to Kings. This has left them with a constant sense of insecurity, much like nouveau riche who have suddenly acquired a large Wealth. Because their foundation is shallow and the origin of their King is unclear, they are naturally at odds with the people."
Robbie understood something. "In other words, they're always on guard against the people."
Prestor's gaze was complex. "Lordaeron is a Cursed Royal City. Previous Kings of the House Menethil were cursed and met tragic ends, making the royal rule unstable and essentially left to individual lords. After Terenas's father became King, he strengthened royal power, inevitably leading to bloodshed and sacrifice. The King grew to reject his people, viewing them as monsters. When the powerful Orcs appeared, he finally found solace."
With a sigh, Prestor added, "These are merely objective reasons. Subjectively, King Terenas is eccentric and unlike ordinary people, and Lordaeron is facing misfortune."
Compared to King Terenas's eccentric nature, Uther's behavior is easier to explain; it must be the guidance of the Holy Light.
"The fate of the nation?" Robbie mused to himself.
"Sir, can you help me?" A crisp, clear girl's voice came from behind. Looking in the direction of the voice, a girl walked gracefully towards them. Although her clothes were gorgeous, they were worn out because they hadn't been washed for many days. She was about fifteen or sixteen years old and very tall, but unfortunately, she was so thin that she was skin and bones. Her golden hair was dry and brittle like straw, as if a gust of wind could blow it away.
Prestor looked at her with pity, then took out a small piece of cake and sent it to her.
The girl wolfed down her cake, then seemed to remember something, swallowing hard and leaving a small portion uneaten. As if she had made up her mind, she suddenly shouted.
"Sir, you are a nobleman, aren't you? Would you marry me?"
"What?"
Prestor was unprepared and looked somewhat flustered.
"Take my brother and me away from this hellhole. I'll do anything you ask. My brother is still growing and is so hungry he's almost falling asleep. Please, I beg you."
The girl clutched at Prestor's clothes and pleaded, while Robbie looked at her questioningly.
Prestor lowered his voice and introduced, "Calia Menethil, the princess of Lordaeron, what a tragedy!"
She is Arthas's sister; it seems even the Royal Palaces of Lordaeron are filled with hunger.
Calia was still a child, though she would soon grow into a beauty, but Deathwing would not marry a human woman, so he hardened his heart and got rid of her.
Robbie thought for a moment and asked, "Do you know magic?"
Calia lowered her head and said dejectedly, "The Dalaran Mages said my talent is very poor."
"It's alright, I'll teach you a modified spell; even those with poor talent can do it."
Robbie took out a blank Magic Scroll, wrote down a spell in great detail, and handed it to Calia.
"The Conjure Food is a special spell; only you can perform it. Remember to keep it a secret and don't tell anyone."
The House Menethil has a unique bloodline that allows them to resist the curse from Undercity. This Conjure Food is an improvement on their family's bloodline.
Calia tried casting the spell, and it worked! Her eyes finally showed a glimmer of hope to live.
After bowing respectfully to Robbie, Calia left happily.
Prestor murmured, "If they treat their own children like this, it's no wonder they treat the common people so cruelly."
Krasus finally mustered his courage and stepped forward, saying:
"Lord Prestor, I have something important to ask you."