Facing the tyrannical Saurfang the Great, a Peace Dove official trembled as he produced a letter and said nervously:
"Warchief, this is Medivh's letter; we have asked you to deliver it."
Medivh?
Saurfang gasped.
After becoming Warchief, Saurfang dared not be too presumptuous and tried to restrain himself, precisely because he was worried about Medivh's interference.
After opening the letter and glancing at it, Saurfang arrogantly said:
"So it was about Blackmoore. He's nothing but a fly; I can swat him anytime. Once I have the time, I'll take his head."
Despite his boastful words, Saurfang dared not actually send troops to Hillsbrad Foothills.
The signatures of Orgrim Doomhammer and Grom Hellscream remained a haunting shadow in his heart.
We must await the results of Eitrigg's investigation.
Hillsbrad Foothills.
As more and more people poured in, this remote land of Lordaeron gradually prospered.
Villages were established one after another, and large amounts of farmland were reclaimed, all in anticipation of the following spring.
Blackmoore adopted a policy of recuperation and restoration, reducing taxes and winning the hearts of the people.
A large influx of nobles arrived, including many talented individuals in military and political affairs.
Blackmoore's imperial ambitions were revealed; he used both kindness and force to successfully make the unruly nobles serve him.
Under the bright sunshine, Blackmoore and the Black-Robed Man patrolled their territory, lightly dressed.
Looking at the thriving scene, Blackmoore said with a heavy heart:
"Lordaeron continues to groan under the iron heel of the Orcs. I feel the time is ripe. Why not attack Tirisfal Glades and destroy Saurfang's tyranny?"
The Black-Robed Man smiled and shook his head. Seeing a farmer clearing weeds in the field, he went up to him and asked:
What do you think of King Terenas's rule?
The farmer looked up, not recognizing the two men, and exclaimed in genuine admiration:
"King Terenas was a divinely ordained and wise ruler, the greatest King in human history, whose achievements are unparalleled. I admire him."
Blackmoore retorted, "How can King Terenas, who imposes heavy taxes on his people and takes away your last grain of food to feed the Orcs, be considered a great King?"
The farmer scratched his head, looking embarrassed, and said, "I can't figure this out, and I don't want to think about it. King Terenas is a good King; he can't be wrong."
How can a good King force his people to leave their homes and the land they have lived on for generations?
Blackmoore could only sigh helplessly. The House Menethil had ruled Lordaeron for many years, and King Terenas had reigned for over fifty years.
This terrible inertia cannot be changed by a moment of tyranny.
The two continued on their way and saw a woman drawing water by the river; her face was as beautiful as a flower.
The Black-Robed Man stepped forward and asked, "Young lady, what is your opinion of the Orcs?"
"The Orcs are the Saviors of Azeroth. They are kind and benevolent. I like them," the woman blurted out without hesitation.
Blackmoore's expression fell, realizing that the propaganda of the Peace Dove was indeed powerful, creating a deeply ingrained concept in the people's minds.
The Black-Robed Man then asked, "So what do you think of Saurfang the Great?"
The woman lowered her head, somewhat shyly saying, "Saurfang the Great is a true hero, a great valiant, my idol. If, if..."
"Stop talking."
Blackmoore angrily interrupted the woman and turned to leave.
After a long pause, Blackmoore asked, puzzled, "Why is this happening? It shouldn't be like this!"
The Black-Robed Man smiled faintly and said, "Throughout history, monarchs have weighed two aspects: first, establishing their own authority, and second, implementing benevolent governance."
Blackmoore was baffled. "I don't think these two things conflict!"
The Black-Robed Man smiled bitterly, "Benevolent governance is difficult. No matter what you do, you can't satisfy all the people. Relatively speaking, establishing authority is easier. People are used to obeying others and like to follow the crowd. They rarely have their own thoughts. King Terenas is very bad at benevolent governance, but relying on his natural faith, he is absolutely adept at establishing authority."
Blackmoore pondered for a long time, then asked, "You mean the Holy Light?"
The Black-Robed Man nodded. "That's right. It was through the Holy Light that King Terenas made himself great, which is why he values Uther so highly."
Blackmoore finally understood his weakness, muttering, "I am not Paladin, nor do I believe in the Holy Light."
The Black-Robed Man sighed heavily, "If we were to return to Lordaeron, the people wouldn't acknowledge you as their king. They would pull Terenas from the latrine and untie Uther from the city walls, and still worship them as their masters. They would even fabricate a story of enduring humiliation, while you would merely be ordered to punish a traitor."
Blackmoore frowned. "If I can save the people of Lordaeron from their suffering, whether I become King or not is irrelevant?"
The Black-Robed Man sighed, "As long as Terenas remains King, the people will never live a good life. Do you think he will learn his lesson? He will still force the people to cut off their own flesh to feed the Orcs."
Blackmoore closed his eyes. "I understand, the time isn't right yet."
The Black-Robed Man calmly said, "We should at least wait until either Terenas or Uther succumbs to the humiliation and dies."
Terenas didn't want to die.
Even if he were stuck in a latrine, covered in maggots, and watched and pointed at by countless people of Lordaeron every day, he didn't want to die.
Thanks to his Ghoul- like lower body structure, he possessed exceptional vitality, enabling him to survive in such harsh conditions.
However, deep within his consciousness, a sliver of darkness gradually spread.
At first, it was just a tiny dot the size of a sesame seed, but it quickly grew to the size of an egg, and finally became a blurry human shape.
"How will history judge you, King Terenas! You have given the Orcs, crushed the bones of the people of Lordaeron, and squeezed out their last drop of marrow. A foolish King, a King who betrayed Orcs, and now you've been thrown into the latrine by the orcs. Look at yourself, don't you feel ashamed?"
"I am the greatest King of mankind," Terenas Steadfast firmly.
"Your actions have absolutely nothing to do with greatness," the voice continued. "You will only become a laughingstock of history. Look, countless wronged souls surround you; they are all the people of Lordaeron whom you have harmed. No King has ever achieved greatness by harming his own people."
Terenas was astonished to find countless wraiths standing around him, some withered and emaciated, others covered in blood, coldly scrutinizing him.
"My greatness is beyond question, all my decisions are correct." Terenas fiercely resisted.
"What empty words! Look at your own situation, do you still think you're right?" the shadowy figure mocked.
Terenas bit her lip hard, finally breaking down, tears streaming down her face.
"Unfortunately, even your tears are filthy, King Terenas. You are powerless to resist; you will only become a piece of rotting flesh in the latrine. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, Uther the Lightbringer was hung at the city gate by Saurfang, suffering endless humiliation and torture. His remorse pleased me greatly."
Uther!
Terenas' last hope was extinguished.
"Walk into the darkness, King Terenas, and I will avenge you. All deserve to die, including the Orcs."