Arthas and Baron Rivendare had a secret way of communicating, and the two met in the dense forest outside the city.
"Prince Highness, you shouldn't have come to Stratholme. We are people destined to die; dying on the battlefield is the best end for us. But you have an important mission to fulfill."
"I need something here, I had to come."
Arthas clenched his fists and said sadly, "I desperately need power."
Baron Rivendare didn't ask for the specific reason, but simply sighed and said:
"I will reserve a main force for you, and at the right moment, they will protect you as you break out. There will always be a fleet waiting for you in the port of Stratholme, my Prince."
The Baron possessed both unwavering perseverance and the determination to fight a tough defensive battle.
But the grim situation left him with no Hope of Victory, and he felt somewhat disappointed.
Robbie sensed the Baron's despair and, looking at his resolute face, couldn't help but say, "Baron, we might not lose this war, if the enemy consists only of the Silver Hand, the Orcs Legion, and the Elf Rangers."
Baron Rivendare stared at Robbie for a long time; he certainly wouldn't easily trust this young man beside the Prince.
They decided to give Robbie a hard time, to make him realize the situation and back down.
"The first question is, how will the Guardian Medivh fight against them?"
Robbie had been preparing for this; he had been considering the offensive and defensive strategies for Stratholme for days.
"Find a trustworthy mage, disguise him as Archmage Kel'Thuzad, and have him deliberately appear on the city walls a few times. Even if Medivh has some suspicions, he definitely won't dare to take the risk himself. This is a chaotic Battlefield, not a duel between two magicians. If Medivh makes any mistake, he could very well perish in Stratholme, or even be killed by an ordinary soldier. We'll gamble on him valuing his life."
Kel'Thuzad is dead. Fortunately, Robbie had considered this issue beforehand. He was secretly buried in Andorhal, and his death was not made public to maintain the deterrent effect on Guardian Medivh.
After careful consideration, Baron Rivendare finally nodded in agreement; it was a good idea.
"The second question is, how should we deal with siege warfare?"
Robbie smiled confidently and said, "Stratholme's walls are high enough that I believe even Orcs couldn't climb them. What we might need to worry about are the Elf rangers' arrows."
Baron Rivendare smiled and shook his head:
"The Elf rangers' arrows aren't a problem. From the very beginning of Stratholme's construction, the High Elves were considered a potential enemy. Stratholme's walls are permanently protected by mist magic, which will cause most of the rangers' arrows to miss. What I'm worried about are the siege weapons."
Before the invention of cannons, a deadly weapon, to conquer a fortified city, one had to build enough siege equipment; climbing city walls by hand was tantamount to suicide.
Siege weapons mainly included siege ladders, battering rams, towers as tall as the city walls, catapults, Catapult, etc. These weapons had one thing in common: they were all made of wood.
"Siege weapons mainly come from two sources: first, they are forged locally; second, they are transported from afar," Robbie analyzed meticulously. "The forest here is too close to Stratholme; we must render it useless."
"Burn it down?"
The baron asked uneasily, "The person who could come up with such a method is definitely not an ordinary ruthless person."
In fact, if it weren't for a certain death battle, the last swan song of humanity in Lordaeron, the Baron would rather face an endless barrage of siege weapons than have the heart to burn down a forest.
For example, friction with the High Elves, or wars between nobles, even if the city's rulers change after defeat, the people still have to live. Large-scale environmental destruction is equivalent to destroying a piece of land on which they depend for survival.
Now that this land is about to be handed over to the Orcs, the baron no longer cares about environmental issues.
Robbie disagreed with burning it, shaking his head and saying:
"Although the High Elves are not Night Elves, they are still Elf race. The fire may not be able to burn everything away. Even if only the tree roots are left, the High Elves could use them. Let's use the Plague and leave them a Plague jungle."
"Ruthless enough, and effective enough."
Baron Rivendare praised it.
No one had any confidence about what would happen as the Plague spread.
Since humans are about to disappear from Lordaeron anyway, why bother with these things? Let the Orcs worry about it.
The baron quickly added with further concern, "But this doesn't solve the practical problem. What if the enemy brings timber or siege equipment from afar?"
"Simple, ambush them halfway, and burn them down."
The baron looked disappointed, thinking the young man was boasting, and pointed at Robbie, laughing loudly:
"This is probably the most difficult one."
"Baron Rivendare, leave this problem to me. Just allocate me a sufficiently elite squad. I can guarantee that the forces besieging Stratholme will not receive enough siege weapons."
Robbie said confidently.
Robbie wasn't exaggerating; he was confident he could complete the task, and that confidence stemmed from Arthas.
Arthas's ability to communicate with the Restless Souls meant he had complete knowledge of the enemy's situation.
Omniscience is omnipotence.
When you are fully familiar with the Battlefield situation and can clearly see all the enemy's actions, even a novice like Robbie who has never commanded a battle before will know how to win.
"If you can do that, what reason do I have not to defend Stratholme?"
Baron Rivendare patted Robbie on the shoulder; he decided to give Robbie the chance.
Inside the church in Stratholme.
All other people had already been driven away, leaving only Robbie and Arthas.
The two searched room by room and finally found the stone slab with symbols engraved on it at the very back of the warehouse.
Holy Light Rune, Evolution.
Arthas stroked the Runes, suppressing his excitement.
"The Holy Light Rune has evolved; I wonder what surprises this Rune will bring us."
The two stared intently at the stone slab, studying it carefully, and both showed expressions of shock.
Compared to the Scourge Rune Deity and calamities, this Rune is extremely difficult and not so easy to comprehend.
Thrall was extremely agitated at failing to wipe out Hearthglen.
Uther suddenly gained powerful Deity abilities, which made Thrall wary and he dared not be violent towards Uther anymore. In the end, he could only vent his anger on the poor Grommash Hellscream.
Having vented his anger enough, Thrall gradually calmed down and looked at the map of Lordaeron.
The map only shows scattered human territories, representing the few remaining survivors who cannot cause any trouble.
The only thing in the way is Stratholme, a major military stronghold in the north and the last city of Lordaeron.
If Stratholme could be wiped off the map, the Orcs could establish a kingdom on that land, and Thrall would officially ascend to the throne as king.
He eagerly awaited the moment when he would be worshipped by countless Orcs.
They summoned Uther the Light Knight and Windrunner Sylvanas, and after a brief discussion, the three teams set off towards Stratholme.
As they approached the Corin's Crossing, a scout ahead reported that they could not proceed any further.
What happened?
Thrall, riding Frostwolf Clan Thrall, asked.
"It's the Plague, the Plague is spreading," the scout said timidly.
Uther, Sylvanas, and Thrall went to investigate.
Before my eyes, the lush fields, vast grasslands, and endless forests were being covered by an eerie green layer at a visible speed. A gust of wind blew, the grass withered, and rows of towering trees fell.
"Oh no, this place is about to become Plaguelands!" Uther exclaimed.