Everyone looked on with suspicion.
As High Elf, Sylvanas Windrunner's longevity is one of her advantages. Having fought on the front lines year-round, who could have more combat experience than her?
"This man is called Meryl Winterstorm, an Undead Mage who has lived for three thousand years, one of the founders of the Council of Tirisfal, and no one knows the Lich King better than him," said King Bronzebeard.
Kael'thas was the first to disagree:
"Gentlemen, you probably don't know this, but this Meryl Winterstorm lives near Duskwood and has built an academy to train spies for the Burning Legion."
"Eastwind Academy, I've heard of it." Duke Bolvar Fordragon nodded. "SI:7 has long heard of it; it's a major problem."
King Bronzebeard stood up and glared angrily at Kael'thas:
"Eastwind Academy is not an institution for training spies; it's merely a sightseeing tour group that helps the Burning Legion's Demons travel through Azeroth."
Everyone here is a hero of Azeroth, no one will believe such nonsense, but because of the relationship between Meryl Winterstorm and the two Guardians, it cannot be said outright.
Uther said with measured intonation, "The Holy Light can cleanse some impurities; we don't need an Undead."
The Black-Robed Man said tactfully, "Although Meryl Winterstorm lived longer, he only had teaching experience; he never actually led troops into battle."
Lady Ashvane interjected, "Does the Alliance really have no one left? Do they need an old man to step in?"
King Bronzebeard was displeased and looked around, saying, "This is the will of Guardian Medivh."
Upon hearing this, everyone fell silent.
In the Eastern Kingdoms, Aegwynn and her son were the undisputed gods.
The rise and fall of races, the rise and fall of King, all bear the shadow of Guardians.
Kael'thas muttered a few words of dissatisfaction, then lowered his head and focused intently on trimming his nails.
The Duke Bolvar Fordragon stared at the ceiling, bored and silent.
Uther beamed, "I know Meryl Winterstorm. He's a true hero. With him as the leader of the Allied Forces, Azeroth will be safe."
Neither the man in the Black-Robed Man nor Ashvane spoke.
King Bronzebeard smiled smugly, "Since no one has any objections, then Meryl Winterstorm will be the leader of the allied forces, Uther will be his assistant."
No one was optimistic about the future of this coalition.
The Kingdom of Stormwind dispatched a large contingent from Lakeshire and some Night Watch, totaling around eight hundred men, armed with twelve hunting rifles and thirty spears, to deal with the situation.
Ironforge dispatched Dun Garok's rangers, including five hundred Dwarf drunkards and five hundred rideable goats.
The Gnome dispatched a squadron of twelve damaged helicopters.
The Kingdom of Gilneas released some of the prisoners, bringing the total to three hundred.
Blackmoore recently cracked down on crime, capturing some Syndicate thieves and sending them over directly.
Kul Tiras provided three old warships.
The Goblins of Booty Bay dressed up the captured Pirates and presented them as an elite force.
However, the Hinterlands' Vilebranch Trolls and Zul'Aman's Amani Trolls each dispatched teams of over a thousand men.
Due to overpopulation, the Troll has an excess population, and war is the best way to reduce their numbers.
The total number of the allied forces was around five thousand, a veritable rabble.
Meryl Winterstorm, leading three Dreadlord Adjutant from the Burning Legion, officially assumed the leadership of the allied forces, Uther was responsible for escorting supplies.
The allied forces built a fortress at the border of Tirisfal Glades and Silverpine Forest.
Winter passed and spring arrived, but the Lich King Terenas of Lordaeron remained silent.
The coalition has never fought a single battle since its formation.
The room was still a bit chilly. Uther warmed himself by the brazier and chatted with the Meryl Winterstorm.
"Since its formation, the coalition has not launched a single attack. I wonder what Lord Medivh thinks of this?" Uther asked with concern.
Meryl Winterstorm smiled and said:
"We both know the fighting strength of the Allied Forces. It's impossible to expect these farmers, prisoners, Pirates, and thieves to defeat Terenas. The Allied Forces are just bait."
"A decoy?" Uther didn't understand for a moment.
Meryl Winterstorm said seriously:
"Only if Terenas attacks and displays formidable fighting power will the various races of the Eastern Kingdoms take it seriously. I'm just surprised that Terenas has remained so calm."
Uther asked, puzzled, "Even if Terenas doesn't come, we can still attack him."
Meryl Winterstorm smiled slightly, "Remember, Uther, we are not invaders."
Uther couldn't figure out Medivh's true intentions. In his opinion, it would be best if Terenas and Blackmoore fought to a standstill, and then they could be dealt with together.
Meryl Winterstorm's expression suddenly darkened. "Uther, have you heard of the Orcs Calamity?"
Uther nodded, a dark look settling between his brows.
Thrall, the Thrall of the Orcs Calamity, is also known by some Orcs as the Savior.
Meryl Winterstorm pointed at the map. "In recent months, Thrall has breached thirty-seven Internment Camps, freeing over one hundred thousand Orcs, yet he has only ever had two thousand Orcs by his side."
Uther stroked his chin and said, "Thrall has killed far more Orcs than Blackmoore, but he himself was an Orcs."
"This can't go on." A glint flashed in Meryl Winterstorm's withered eyes. "Medivh ordered that Thrall must be eliminated."
Uther asked, somewhat surprised, "Why doesn't Lord Medivh take action himself?"
After hesitating for a long time, Meryl Winterstorm said, "Intelligence indicates that Thrall is a member of the Cult of the Damned, a powerful sect with a history even longer than the Council of Tirisfal."
Could it be that Medivh is afraid of the Cult of the Damned? Uther pondered to himself, warning himself never to make an enemy of Thrall.
But appearances had to be maintained. Uther declared fervently, "Give me two thousand men, and I will take Thrall's head."
"Thrall's men are elusive and like to hide deep in the mountains; they're very difficult to find," Meryl Winterstorm said regretfully.
Uther thought to himself: If it weren't for this, how could I dare to utter such arrogant words?
A scout came in to report:
"Lord Meryl Winterstorm, Sir Uther, an Orcs army is approaching, bearing the banner of Thrall, the Savior."
"What? Thrall of the Orcs Calamity?" Uther jumped up, his eyes wide, and asked, "Are you sure you saw that?"
"Absolutely true," the scout replied hastily. "Thrall is riding a bear and carrying a warhammer."
"It seems it's indeed Thrall." Meryl Winterstorm said calmly, "Uther, your chance has come."
Having already made the boast, Uther had no choice but to bite the bullet and climb the fortress's tower.
Before long, an Orcs army slowly approached, with Thrall, the Thrall of the Orcs Calamity, riding a black bear at the very front.
Thrall glanced at the allied fortress, smiled faintly, and the army bypassed the fortress and entered Silverpine Forest.
Uther was bewildered, his eyes darting around, then he exclaimed with wild joy:
"There are no Orcs internment camps in Silverpine Forest, so Thrall's target must be Blackmoore."
Meryl Winterstorm agreed, and laughed, "Very well, the allied forces will remain still and watch as Thrall and Blackmoore fight to the bitter end."
Before long, a scout came to report that Thrall had set up camp in the rear.
Neither Meryl Winterstorm nor Uther took it seriously, but after a few days, they panicked.
Thrall's two thousand Orcs refused to leave, turning their camp into a fortified fortress and cutting off the allied forces' supply lines.