Medivh was certain that there was at least one powerful mage in the Vrykul caravan.
The mage's ability to disrupt the Guardian's teleportation spells suggests that this mage's strength is probably comparable to his own.
Medivh was very proud. Having returned from his studies at the Burning Legion's academy, he was confident that he could even put up a fight against Odyn, and the outcome was still uncertain.
But today's setback disheartened him. If even a random mage among the Vrykul is this powerful, just how powerful must Odyn be?
The cautious Medivh dared not take the risk. Although there were other ways to enter the Night Fortress, the Vrykul might have already set a trap for Medivh, such as an ancient Anti-Magic Array.
Medivh's strength lies entirely in magic; without magic, the Vrykul could kill him as easily as killing a chicken.
Although people dare not go there, letters can be sent.
Medivh wrote a secret letter and gave it to the messenger; the recipient was Tyrande.
Even without Medivh's reminder, Tyrande was very interested in the Vrykul caravan. He consulted with Malfurion also felt that this caravan was unusual and sent people to investigate.
"Nothing unusual was found." Malfurion rubbed his forehead. "They claim to be from Stormheim, children of Odyn, an ancient tribe that makes a living by forging armor, and they usually keep a very low profile."
Tyrande asked, displeased, "Did they explain what's going on with these Night Elf crafts?"
Malfurion shrugged and replied:
"They say they received help from the Night Elves in ancient times, which is why they learned our craft. Hearing that we were attacked by the Burning Legion, they are offering us armor and weapons at a discounted price as a way of repaying the kindness from ancient times."
Tyrande said coldly, "I don't recall ever helping the Vrykul. Was it back in Queen Azshara's time ten thousand years ago? Heh, the Vrykul have quite the memory."
"Okay, okay, I understand your concerns!"
Malfurion stared at Tyrande, saying worriedly, "This is very detrimental to our plans. Our people have become much stronger, making it difficult for the Burning Legion to win. They won't even need General Feathermoon's Secret Mage Corps to fight."
Upon hearing the name General Feathermoon, Tyrande felt a surge of annoyance and said fiercely:
"As long as the Secret Mage Corps exists, we cannot receive the protection of Elune. The Vrykul seem to have helped us, but they have actually ruined things. Although they haven't embraced magic, their armor and weapons are magical equipment, which still goes against Elune's will and displeases the great Moon Goddess."
Malfurion thought for a moment, then shrugged helplessly, "But we are powerless. We can't ask the soldiers to give up this equipment; that would be like handing their necks to the Legion's blade."
Tyrande understood this as well; the Vrykul caravan was so generous and righteous that it was warmly welcomed by its people, and it was impossible to drive them out of the fortress.
Just as Tyrande was struggling with this dilemma, she received a secret letter from Medivh.
In the secret letter, Medivh solemnly instructed that the Vrykul caravans must be expelled and trade halted. He then needed to find a way to get the Night Elves to discard their armor and weapons and fight the Legion's steel Fel with their bare flesh.
Tyrande angrily cursed, "That damned Medivh! He won't show himself, but he throws the problem at us!"
Just when the couple were at their wits' end, a guard knocked on the door and reported that a soldier was requesting an audience with Tyrande, concerning armor provided by the Vrykul.
Tyrande reluctantly received the soldier, a young Sentinels, who, for some reason, was in tears.
"Elune bless you, soldier, is there anything I can do to help you?" Tyrande asked, feigning concern.
The soldier excitedly presented his armor. On the lining of the armor, in an inconspicuous corner, was engraved a line of delicate handwriting. "I am Ailuya Chengge, I am well, do not worry."
"Ailuya Chengge is my lover. On the night the Legion wiped out Mount Hyjal, she vanished before my eyes as a beam of white light," the soldier whispered, rubbing his red eyes.
Tyrande and Malfurion exchanged glances. The hundreds of thousands of Night Elves who disappeared that night were still missing. Tyrande explained that they had entered the realm of Elune, and were enjoying eternal glory.
My love is still alive.
The soldier said excitedly:
"The soldiers found their people's writing on many suits of armor. Lady Tyrande, our people live happily in the land of the Moon Goddess. The Vrykul caravan must have been sent by Elune, to save us."
Tyrande blinked, unsure how to explain, and could only say devoutly, "Thank you, Elune; her glory shines eternally upon the earth."
The soldier left happily, constantly chanting the Elune.
The Tyrande couple did not believe that their people had entered the realm of the Moon Goddess, and they analyzed the situation accordingly.
"These armors were forged by the missing from Mount Hyjal. The Vrykul caravan was just a decoy. In the Azeroth, who has the ability to rescue our people, and who has the ability to teach them how to forge these armors?"
Malfurion and Tyrande looked at each other, and in each other's eyes they saw the same answer.
"The Scourge, Arthas."
Tyrande was furious and yelled, "We've been tricked! They're not Vrykul from Stormheim at all! They must be from Northrend, the ancient Vrykul resurrected by Arthas, a bunch of damned Undead!"
Malfurion sighed, "It's truly unexpected that Arthas would participate in the Battle of Mount Hyjal in this way. It's a pity we're powerless to stop it. Should we tell our people that we've been deceiving them all along?"
Tyrande had no choice but to curse Arthas loudly.
Arthas's power left a deep impression on Tyrande's heart. Later, when the Alliance and Horde launched their expedition to Northrend, Tyrande ordered the Night Elves not to participate.
Amidst joy and sorrow, while the Night Elves celebrated the news of their people's whereabouts, Tyrande and Malfurion wore grim expressions, unsure how the war should continue.
Medivh's secret letters kept arriving, constantly urging Tyrande to take action.
In a recent secret letter, Medivh even stated that if Tyrande did not take action, Archimonde would lead the Burning Legion to withdraw from Azeroth, and the Night Elves would never receive the protection of the Moon Goddess.
This made Tyrande feel that the end was coming. She seemed to see herself losing power, relying on Malfurion for survival, living a pitiful, low-key, and cautious life forever.
The trade between the Night Elves and the Vrykul was in full swing. In addition to armor and weapons, cannons with terrifying calibers and Catapults were also being transported into the fortress. The Vrykul provided technical support to help the Night Elves install these heavy weapons.
Seeing that the fortress was built like an iron barrel, the Tyrande couple's expressions grew increasingly grim.
In Ironforge, Magni Bronzebeard, the secret Guardian of the World Tree, drifted off to sleep.
In his dream, he saw a bright full moon hanging above his head, its milky-white light enveloping his entire body, and a majestic female voice entered his ears:
"Arise, Magni, the Night Elves of Mount Hyjal need your salvation."