An overwhelming sense of solemnity permeated the entire conference hall. For a moment, everyone felt as if they were in the deep sea, unable to breathe, with complete darkness before their eyes.
King Terenas's forehead was instantly soaked with sweat, and he hurriedly tried to appease him:
"I have great respect for you and sincerely hope you can help us solve this problem. I once considered handing the Orcs over to you, but that would be an affront to the dignity of the Orcs."
"So you ruthlessly offended the dignity of the people of Alterac and took their lives, is that right?" Prestor asked coldly.
Terenas asked curiously, "How can lowly brutes have any dignity? I have never regarded them as my own kind."
Prestor was speechless for a moment, suddenly realizing how childish and ridiculous he had been.
He was a Black Dragon, Deathwing, the Black Dragon King, when did he ever feel Mercy for humanity?
Human society is strictly hierarchical, with numerous classes, just like those of you here today, whose greatest enemy comes from your own kind.
Dreams are always beautiful, but there are too many disappointments. Prestor sighed helplessly, but he hadn't forgotten his original intention, and his expression softened a bit.
Terenas smiled at Prestor, "I know that giving up Alterac will leave a bad name in history, so I need your help."
Prestor frowned, thinking, "Doing the most disgusting things, yet still wanting a good reputation."
"I can't do it."
"No, no, it's actually very simple."
Terenas publicly revealed her well-thought-out plan:
"I have a proposal that will give you everyone's support, making you the King of Alterac. Then, you will wage war against the Dragonmaw Clan. Inevitably, some crimes will be committed during the war, such as the massacre of innocent civilians. The Dragonmaw Clan, having reached their limit, will achieve victory with the help of the dragons."
"Orcs people?" Prestor interrupted the King rudely.
Terenas shook his head. "How could I bear to see Orcs suffer? Of course, it's the human people, like the villagers of Stromgarde."
Prestor found it somewhat amusing, still unable to comprehend human thought. He shrugged and said, "I slaughtered human civilians, then the Orcs righteously offered their help, destroying the Evil Alterac. The Orcs then naturally occupied this land—a flawless plan."
"Then what will I get? An exiled King?" Prestor retorted.
Terenas was prepared. "A perfect marriage. I will give you my daughter in marriage and two pieces of land in the north as a dowry, larger than the lands of Alterac."
"That sounds really good, it's uplifting."
Prestor blinked, secretly deciding that there was no need to persuade the human Kings; they were foolish and incompetent.
To solve the Alterac problem, the Black Dragon King decided to act according to his own will.
"You agreed, that's wonderful news!"
Terenas smiled with satisfaction, then turned to the other Kings:
"You will all receive generous rewards. The navy will retain its dominance at sea and will gain the coveted Island. In compensation, King Greymane will be permitted to establish a maritime colony off the coast of Alterac. Danath Trollbane will receive the eastern region of Alterac. In this deal, we are all winners."
"Except for the people of Alterac," Terenas thought to himself.
A relatively strong Red Whelp soared through the clouds, creating billowing air currents.
Nekros rode on the dragon's neck, holding the Demon Soul in his hand.
Rhonin and Vereesa sat on the dragon's back. Using clever magic, Rhonin made his body as light as possible so that he wouldn't be thrown off.
The slender Vereesa was already light-bodied with long limbs and agile movements, and quickly adapted to the dragon's back.
The Whelps, carrying the three of them, should have been struggling, but thanks to Rhonin and Vereesa's care, it flew steadily with almost no turbulence.
To the left and right of the dragon, three Whelps flew, with Orcs- looking orcs on their backs.
This is a large-scale operation, with ground troops providing support in addition to these dragons.
Unfortunately, Rhonin was just a prisoner and had no chance to learn the details of the operation; all he needed to do was carry out orders.
By the time Nekros and his dragons arrived, the battle had already begun.
The Battlefield was on a narrow path in the mountains, a terrain of extreme danger. The opponents were the Order of the Silver Hand and an equal number of Orcs.
Due to the terrain, the knights were unable to form a battle formation, and coupled with their lack of will to fight, they were quickly squeezed together, with most of them throwing down their weapons and surrendering.
However, Rhonin observed the Orcs' valiant fighting. Their equipment was almost identical to that of the Orcs under Nekros's command. To distinguish them, Nekros's Orcs wore red feathers in their hair, while the others wore black feathers.
Once the dragon joined the Battlefield, the situation immediately reversed. A small number of the black-feathered Orcs were killed in action, while most tumbled down the cliff, their fates unknown.
Nekros climbed off the dragon's neck and limped toward the Battlefield.
"Terenas has sent an envoy to discuss something with Zuluhed. I won't let them have their way. Let me see who this envoy is."
The disarmed knights huddled together, all with their heads bowed, Nekros shouted:
"Uther, I see you. Come out."
Several Orcs walked into the crowd, grabbed a burly middle-aged man, and shoved him around, with a dragon helping them.
"No, go away, don't hit me, don't bite my head."
Uther's hair was disheveled, and he had changed into ordinary armor, probably trying to conceal his identity, but unfortunately, Nekros discovered him.
Nekros, chewing on a blade of grass, said, "Uther, we Orcs also understand chivalry. If you win a one-on-one duel, I promise to let you go back."
Uther's eyes lit up with hope as an Orcs brought him his armor and the Earthshaker.
Nekros turned to look at Rhonin and whispered, "Your chance to prove your loyalty has come."
Rhonin touched his nose, a wave of sadness washing over him.
Who is Uther?
The renowned Lightbringer, leader of the Order of the Silver Hand, and humanity's foremost hero.
Regardless of the outcome of the duel, Rhonin's reputation was completely ruined.
Although the relationship between Dalaran and Lordaeron is delicate, the Dalaran Mages would never offend Uther for Rhonin's sake.
On the other hand, using Uther the Lightbringer to test Rhonin proved that he was of even greater value.
Could it be solely due to the Holy Word? Rhonin was still unsure of the situation.
Uther donned his armor, carrying the heavy Earthshaker in one hand, and when he saw that his opponent was Rhonin, a playful smile appeared on his face.
"You must be the missing mage, Rhonin. I told you I would deliver your body to the esteemed Lord Zuluhed."
Rhonin harbored resentment; if it weren't for the Silver Hand's interference, he wouldn't have become a prisoner of the Orcs.
Uther roared, and terrifying Power of the Holy Light surged forth as if boiling, with every muscle in his body seemingly glowing.
Uther gripped the Earthshaker tightly with both hands and slammed it hard into the ground, causing the ground to tremble violently.
The Earthshaker, as the name suggests, kills opponents by shaking the ground.
Rhonin Blink out of the Earthshaker's range and casually released a Frostbolt.
The basic Frostbolt is very weak and cannot penetrate Uther's defenses.
Uther took a step forward and found his steps heavy and his pace slowing.