At the gates of Stormwind City, Duke Bolvar looked sadly at Varian.
He was older Varian, like an elder brother, and had witnessed Varian's growth.
He is the Regent of the Kingdom of Stormwind and King Varian's mentor. Bolvar, well-versed in history, knows very well that the Regent is not a likable figure.
King needs the assistance of experienced predecessors to mature, but once King is truly capable of governing, the first person he often kicks aside is his own mentor.
At best, one's reputation is ruined; at worst, the entire family is killed. History is replete with such examples.
In fact, Bolvar had his own territory and could have lived a leisurely life like other lords, without having to pay attention to His Majesty the King, and only needed to manage his own territory.
But Duke Bolvar knew that in such chaotic times, someone had to step forward; without guidance, an inexperienced King could very well bring about an annihilation of humanity.
He envied Sir Lothar. As the sole heir of the Arathi bloodline, the House of Lothar was the most qualified to become the king of Kingdom of Stormwind, but unfortunately, because they had offended the Guardian Aegwynn, they no longer had the chance to inherit the position.
Sir Lothar was destined to die in the final battle after defeating the Orcs.
Ser Lothar knew very well what would happen to a Regent, Duke Bolvar certainly did as well. That's why he secretly sent his daughter to the Kingdom of Kul Tiras, hoping that in the worst-case scenario, he could preserve a bloodline for his family.
"King Majesty, I understand you. Many Kings struggle to make the right choice between their own glory and the interests of the kingdom. You want to be a great monarch, and you want to gain great power—that's not wrong."
"But"
Duke Bolvar's gaze sharpened. He was now reckless, willing to offend His Majesty the King and bear the stigma of disloyalty. Pointing to the magnificent Stormwind City, with its towering spires, he stated bluntly:
"The glory forged from the blood of countless ancestors is about to be easily destroyed in your hands, Varian. Perhaps you will become a great King someday. But now you are no match for Thrall. Your political acumen is far inferior to Thrall's. This is not a fair fight. You can die, you can be torn apart and eaten by the Orcs, but these soldiers are innocent. Please have pity on them. They do not deserve to lose their lives because of your foolishness."
Duke Bolvar showed no mercy; he knew the consequences of offending a King, but he no longer cared.
A person's greatest virtue is self-awareness, but unfortunately, Varian lacked this quality.
Varian's face quickly darkened, his stubbornness and pride casting a gray shadow over his features. He looked at Duke Bolvar with disappointment and laughed mockingly:
"Bolvar, my friend, I thought you could understand me, but now it seems you are no different from any other mortal. Step back, Your Grace. When I return victorious, you will realize how foolish you have been. If you wish to die here like a warrior, I will grant your wish, though it will be meaningless."
Bolvar closed his eyes. He knew he had failed, but he couldn't die here so easily. He still had so much to do for the country.
The Duke stood Anjing at the city gate, like a statue, as squads of soldiers passed by him.
At this moment, the Grand Duke of Stormwind City appeared so helpless. Only after the last soldier disappeared did Bolvar open his eyes, his eyes filled with sorrowful tears. He looked at the white clouds in the sky, forcing himself not to let the tears fall.
General Marcus Jonathan, commander of the Stormwind City defense forces, approached the Duke and whispered:
"Your Grace, you should have faith in our King; he will surely return victorious."
Bolvar shook his head and said sadly:
"I am not grieving for the King, but for these innocent soldiers. I have seen it all: an army marched out of the city and never returned; elderly parents never saw their sons come home; newlywed wives lost their husbands, and they don't even receive compensation. How many more of these senseless sacrifices will the Kingdom of Stormwind suffer?"
From this moment on, between King Varian and the Kingdom of Stormwind, Duke Bolvar chose the latter.
Varian's party moved slowly, passing through Elwynn Forest and crossing the border of Gnoll territory.
A group of Gnolls hid in the shadows, watching Varian's army. Faced with the imposing presence of the human army, especially the imposing cavalry, both men and horses clad in thick armor, many Gnolls showed expressions of envy.
Only Hogger, the Gnoll leader, was different from the others. He squinted his small eyes, carefully observing King Varian's expression, a thoughtful look on his face.
A clever Gnoll approached and said obsequiously, "Your Majesty, one day you too can take your place."
Hogger slapped the Gnoll had come close to him, and roared, "You bastard, are you cursing me to die?"
"Go to hell! What do you mean by this? Your Majesty, spare my life! I didn't mean it that way!" The Gnoll was somewhat bewildered, innocently protesting. His eyes darted around, and he fawned again, "Great King, I was ignorant. Please enlighten us!"
Hogger bared his sharp fangs, quite pleased with himself, and shook his head, saying:
"See this army? They exude an aura of death. Don't ask me how I know; the reason is simple. Take our war against the Kobolds, for example. Why do the Kobolds always lose to us? Because we Gnolls are clever. When we're outnumbered, we tell the Gnoll Kobold need peace; when we're in a position of advantage, we say it's just a brutal war. Sometimes, when we clash with the Murlocs, a little manipulation will get the Kobolds to fight for us. Varian is Kobold now; how could he not lose?"
Upon hearing this, the Gnolls around him were filled with admiration for Hogger. Hogger was able to become the leader of the Gnolls in Elwynn Forest not only because he was taller than the average Gnoll, but also because of his outstanding intellect.
One of the Gnolls asked, "My lord, are you seeking allegiance to the Horde?"
Hogger slapped him hard again, knocking him to the ground, and said arrogantly:
"Although I, Hogger, am a ferocious Gnoll, I also understand the principles of national duty. I can abandon anything, but the one thing I cannot abandon is my conscience."
At Jerod's Landing in Elwynn Forest, Varian's party made a brief rest before crossing the river in one fell swoop.
At that moment, the Old Murk-Eye Murloc, accompanied by his two Adjutant, was playing in the river when he suddenly spotted a group of people on the bank. The Old Murk-Eye asked his Adjutant in surprise, "I smell a large group of humans. Who's over there?"
Adjutant Slark replied, "Boss, it's King Varian and his private army. They look like they're heading to Duskwood."
"Varian is really going to the Vulgol Ogre Mound?" Old Murk-Eye scratched his head, somewhat incredulous. "Damn it, he's going to rescue Thrall! I can't allow this to happen! Take me there, I need to speak with King Varian."
Another Adjutant, Brack, said, "Boss, we're wanted criminals. If we get caught by humans, we'll be made into fish soup."
The Old Murk-Eye's expression was solemn as he earnestly said:
"Listen, if the Alliance wins, at worst we wanted criminals will be turned into fish soup. If Thrall's Horde wins, all the Murlocs in Azeroth will be eaten by the Orcs. For the future of the Humans in Azeroth, I, Old Murk-Eye, must stand up. Besides, I, Old Murk-Eye, have roamed the rivers and lakes for decades; capturing me won't be so easy."
The figure of the Old Murk-Eye slowly appeared on the river at Jerod's Landing.
"I am Old Murk-Eye, and I wish to speak with King Varian." Old Murk-Eye stood on a tree branch, bobbing up and down in the clear river water, his movements unpredictable.