Rhonin and Vereesa were taken to a camp.
Many dried corpses hung on the sharpened wooden fence, including the heads of Murlocs, Goblins, and Swamp Crocolisk, as well as a few humans and Dwarves.
There were no Orcs, though.
The camp was bustling with people, all dressed in tattered leather armor, with fierce eyes and menacing faces. Although they were all races of the Alliance, there were no kind souls among them.
The men looked at the knight with fear and mixed emotions. When they saw the beautifully Vereesa, their disgusting expressions were nauseating. When they noticed the pointed ears standing up in her thick hair, their expressions changed again. They forcibly looked away, their bodies trembling with unease.
Rhonin quickly discerned something amiss: this was a bandit's lair, with the Dragonmaw Clan as their backers, whom they had conscripted after being defeated by the Silver Hand.
There were only about thirty Silver Hand knights in the camp, yet they could easily subdue hundreds of thieves and make them obedient.
The Paladins protected Vereesa well; even a glance from those bandits was enough to enrage them and kill. One unfortunate Gnome, unable to keep his eyes open, was impaled on the railing, bleeding profusely as he screamed and begged for mercy.
Rhonin had learned that the elderly knight leading the group was named Duncan Senturus, and that he was the leader here when Uther the Lightbringer was away.
"We saw that dragon, it's a tragedy," Duncan said regretfully. "Lord Uther has an important mission, Rhonin, he is a wonderful gift."
Vereesa understood Lordaeron's attitude towards the Orcs. The Elven Prince Kael'thas initially suggested killing all the Orcs, but this was categorically rejected by King Terenas.
The Kingdom of Lordaeron was already exhausted and its economy was collapsing in order to support the Orcs. The suffering of the people was indescribable, but this did not diminish King Terenas's enthusiasm for the Orcs.
"Is it for Teron Gorefiend?" Vereesa asked calmly.
Duncan was very open with this beautiful woman, but unfortunately, he didn't know much about her:
"That's only one reason. Everyone says that Teron Gorefiend is dead, but his Death Knights are still alive, and Zuluhed, the chieftain of the Dragonmaw Clan, is very interested in that."
Vereesa was somewhat disappointed by the answer, but more than that, she felt powerless. All she could do was try her best to take care of Rhonin and make him suffer less.
At Vereesa's suggestion, Rhonin received a thin slice of bread and a cup of water. The best way to treat prisoners is to keep them in a weakened state, as extreme mental exhaustion will affect a mage's spellcasting success rate. Rhonin remained drowsy and unable to concentrate.
"You are so kind and helpful," Duncan continued, fawning over Vereesa. "A scoundrel like Rhonin deserves to be hanged. How dare he offend a noble Orcs! I have never seen such a despicable and shameless person."
Vereesa knew that the victory over the Orcs was achieved thanks to the local forces of Lordaeron. The Order of the Silver Hand were originally a powerful force, but Uther had given his best warriors to the Orcs, leaving mostly Orcs worshippers.
Duncan, still smiling, said to Vereesa, "Please allow me to personally escort you to your resting place."
He then glanced at his men and said coldly, "Go find a place to house the prisoners."
Rhonin was thrown into a damp and filthy shack like trash. His head was burning hot, his mind was buzzing, and he wanted to get up but had no strength.
The knights remained vigilant, and the three thieves became Rhonin's guards, required to keep a constant eye on Rhonin.
If Rhonin escapes, they will be impaled on the railings like the poor Gnome.
"This is a truly hopeless situation." A dazed and confused Rhonin had already given up.
He saved the Red Dragon Queen from being killed by the Orcs, only to be betrayed by his own people—how ironic!
As night fell, Rhonin listened to the whispers of the three thieves and heard the occasional hurried footsteps of patrolling guards.
A breeze picked up, and an unusual magical power descended, causing Rhonin's heart to clench.
He had experienced it on the ship before, and felt the exact same aura as when the Red Dragon swooped down, though it was much fainter due to the distance. Rhonin could still clearly sense it.
Orcs are attacking.
Unfortunately, Rhonin struggled to even stand up. Before long, a commotion arose, followed by deafening roars. Knights bravely shouted slogans as they retreated, while thieves screamed and scattered in all directions. The chaotic sounds were incessant. For some reason, Rhonin's mind was filled with Vereesa's beautiful face.
A deafening explosion shook the earth. Rhonin felt the ground tremble, and before he lost consciousness, he felt a huge dragon claw descend from the sky and grab his waist.
Delicious broth flowed down Rhonin's esophagus, warming his swollen stomach. Rhonin felt a surge of strength and struggled to open his eyes.
He found himself lying on an animal skin, next to a snarling female Orcs.
"I said, you must be gentler, learn from those humans and Elves." A grumpy voice complained, "Be careful, don't choke him, this human is very useful to adults."
Behind the female Orcs stood a tall, strong Orcs, who was supervising Orcs.
Unfortunately, the female Orcs was clumsy, and a lot of soup spilled onto Rhonin's chest. Rhonin could only reach out and take the bowl of soup.
After drinking a bowl of meat soup, Rhonin felt much better. He didn't know what kind of meat it was, but it had a faint, pungent smell. Rhonin felt that he had never tasted anything so delicious.
The tall, muscular Orcs looked down at Rhonin closely, then grinned widely. "Get a good night's sleep, don't overthink it, Lord Nekros wants to see you!"
Without a doubt, he had fallen into the hands of the Orcs; this was Orcs dwelling.
Nekros the Skullbreaker, Rhonin repeated the name in his mind, remembering that he was the manipulator of the Demon Soul. He was so exhausted that Rhonin drifted off to sleep.
After waking up, Rhonin was escorted by several Orcs into a gloomy cave. The howling wind constantly reached his ears. Rhonin sensed an unusual Flame aura in the air, which was different from the usual Fire Elementals; it was a refined and preserved magical element.
Deep inside the cave, an Orcs sat on a wooden chair. Among the burly Orcs, he was not particularly tall, and one of his legs was fitted with a wooden prosthetic.
Nekros the Skullbreaker looked up and noticed Rhonin's gaze.
Rhonin's focus wasn't on his limp, but on the golden disc he was holding in his left hand.
Is this the Demon Soul? Rhonin wondered.
"I hate the Dalaran Mages. If it weren't for your incompetence, my world wouldn't be in this state."
The Orcs's voice was calm; he was a rational fellow and not to be trifled with.
"You must prove your ability; whether you become a VIP or a prisoner depends on your performance."
Nekros clapped his hands, and with the clanging of chains came a pungent, putrid stench.
Rhonin turned around and saw four Orcs escorting a tall monster with festering, oozing skin. It was an Orcs Death Knight.
"Kill him, with your Holy Word!" Nekros shouted. "If you succeed, I can grant you a reasonable request."
Rhonin noticed Vereesa's bow and arrows hanging to the side, took a deep breath, and said, "As you wish."