"Cost?"
Doras chuckled, the fat on her cheeks jiggling violently.
It's important to know that Orcs have very strict rules, and women are not allowed to easily smile in front of men, but Doras's smile has a unique charm.
Garrosh clearly smelled the scent of gold coins, a sea of gold coins that could overwhelm him.
Doras smiled and waved his hand, saying, "I don't need you to pay any price. I want men; as long as you give me enough gold, I can have as many as I want. What I need is a backer, a powerful ally. Without the support of power, Wealth is like a castle in the air, a rootless duckweed. I need the strong support of an Orcs Warchief."
"Why not Thrall?" Garrosh asked deliberately.
"You're a smart man, why ask a question you already know the answer to?" Doras sat amidst a pile of corpses, like a Ghost Mushroom secretly blooming in a graveyard. "Thrall doesn't need my support to remain chieftain. I'm just a crutch for him, something he can discard at any time after he's used me, and then he'll tear me apart, eat me, and take all my Wealth."
Garrosh nodded, saying admiringly, "You are a clever woman."
"I just have a sense of crisis and am preparing for it in advance."
Doras gritted his teeth, his sharp fangs gleaming coldly. "Do you know how much I've suffered over the years? Countless people coveted my Wealth, countless attacks and assassinations. I thought Cairne Bloodhoof was a warrior, but he turned out to be a coward. He's utterly disappointing. I helped you ascend to the position of Warchief, and you provided me with protection. You can't live without my Wealth, and I must rely on your power. This is more reliable than any other alliance."
"A fair trade." Garrosh grinned menacingly, but then asked with concern, "To be honest, I'm not optimistic about our cooperation. I don't want to risk my life for a hopeless plan. If you have a well-thought-out idea, you'd better tell me so I can assess the risks and rewards."
"A rational Orcs, you are far wiser than your father." Doras took a bottle of red wine and two glasses from the cabinet. "If you like, let's talk over a drink."
Garrosh shook his head, remaining sufficiently vigilant.
Doras, unimpressed, took a sip of the blood-red wine and slowly said:
"The rise of the Scourge shattered the last vestiges of peace in Azeroth, plunging it into an era of chaos. Thrall may not have been Savior, but his greatest achievement was uniting the Orcs. Regardless of his many mistakes, this alone is enough to earn the Orcs' support."
Garrosh's expression turned solemn, and he gritted his teeth, saying, "You're absolutely right. Based on this alone, Thrall can firmly hold the position of Warchief. No matter how hard I try, how many achievements I make, or how great my accomplishments are, the glory will always go to Thrall. It's all thanks to his wise leadership."
Doras's eyes shone brightly. "So you must first learn to be patient, learn to hide yourself, and not compete with Thrall for power. The time is not yet ripe; you need to accumulate strength in secret."
"How long am I supposed to wait?" Garrosh's eyes blazed with fury. "Thrall is about my age, and my father is still suffering under his torment."
Doras sighed and said softly, "This is exactly what I feared most. For the sake of the Warchief, you must abandon your father and temporarily put aside the thought of revenge. Time is on your side."
Garrosh's feelings for his father weren't as deep as one might imagine; otherwise, he would have stormed the Orcs camp long ago, risking his life to rescue his father. He still hadn't forgotten what the old Shaman had taught him:
"In this world, besides yourself, there is no one else worth risking your life for."
"I don't understand why time is on my side," Garrosh asked, puzzled.
Doras remained calm, as if he had seen through everything. "I am older than you and have experienced countless betrayals and treachery. What you lack is only experience. All living beings get tired of things, Orcs are no exception. Moreover, Thrall has a weakness: he is too eager for quick success. As long as he is the Warchief, the Orcs will fight incessantly, never stopping. This will hasten Orcs weariness of Thrall, and many will think, 'Why not try a Warchief?'"
"You're wrong," Garrosh disagreed with Doras's view, retorting:
"Orcs are like a pack of hungry wolves on the plains. Only through constant killing and war can they survive. I know the history of the Orcs. Before they entered Azeroth, the various Orcs tribes were constantly at war with each other, and their hatred for the Ogres was endless. Comfort and peace would only lead to the destruction of the Orcs."
"You're absolutely right." Doras nodded approvingly, a look of appreciation on his face.
"So once you become Warchief, you must surpass Thrall and be even more ruthless. I already have a great plan to build a true Iron Orcs. You will definitely become a Warchief even greater than Thrall."
Garrosh grinned. "I like this plan."
Doras solemnly instructed:
"Remember, all empty titles are meaningless. Only by firmly holding the army in your hands can you truly secure the position of Warchief. When the Orcs grow weary of Thrall's leadership, you can step forward at the opportune moment, overthrow Thrall's rule with absolute power, and take his place."
Garrosh, being very clever, grinned menacingly and said, "So I'm going to help Thrall, constantly making him make mistakes, making the Orcs weary of his rule, right?"
Doras nodded in satisfaction and said:
"Cleverness, conquest, slaughter, and making enemies on all sides— Thrall will only sink deeper and deeper into this cycle, eventually finding himself enamored with it and unable to extricate himself. Thrall's only reliance is the Burning Legion and Guardian Medivh. If the Burning Legion wins, there's nothing we can do; it's fate. If they lose, he'll have lost an arm. We can't fight the Guardian, but if we sever Thrall's connection with Medivh, Thrall 'll never be able to recover."
Garrosh was well aware of Thrall's connection to Medivh, and he spat out a name through gritted teeth:
"Jaina!"
Doras continued, "Before overthrowing Thrall's rule, you must first learn from Thrall. He has many admirable qualities that you should learn from and reflect upon. Our cooperation is for..."
"For Azeroth," Garrosh replied naturally, having already learned Thrall's hypocrisy.
"Very good!" Doras breathed a sigh of relief. She had taken a considerable risk in this negotiation. Garrosh was a ferocious beast, but fortunately, this beast had a mind and enough rationality.
Garrosh and Doras sat amidst a pile of corpses, discussing things all night long, both filled with confidence in the future.
Throughout the long night, Eitrigg waited anxiously outside, fearing that Garrosh might mess things up.
He seemed to hear several screams, which frightened him so much that he almost ran away, but thankfully everything calmed down afterwards.
The next morning, Garrosh stepped out of his cabin. The night's negotiations had exhausted him, leaving him looking extremely tired, with dark circles under his eyes like Pandaren, clearly indicating that he hadn't slept all night.
Eitrigg couldn't help but secretly admire: young people really have great stamina.
"How's it going?" Eitrigg asked hastily.
"I have fulfilled my mission." Garrosh smiled confidently.