A small purple flower blooms secretly on the overgrown grave.
Tirion Fordring was leading a thin, old horse. Tirion Fordring himself was just as wretched as the horse, having gone without food for days, leaving him extremely weak.
Since Taelan Fordring died in an accident and Robbie burned down Tirion Fordring Castle, Tirion Fordring was left with nothing. His former admirers all abandoned him, and he lived a life of hunger and hardship, unable even to afford White Maggot Meat. He was in a very miserable state.
Sometimes, he had to lower himself and pretend to be an ordinary adventurer, serving the Argent Dawn or Scarlet Crusade in the Plaguelands, doing the lowest jobs just to get a decent meal. No one knew that this taciturn old man was the famous Tirion Fordring.
But Tirion Fordring's ambition never died out. He found Nathanos Blightcaller, the Forsaken stationed in the Western Plaguelands. With Tirion Fordring's sweet talk, he finally succeeded in persuading Blightcaller. Through Blightcaller, Tirion Fordring delivered a letter he had pondered for many days to Sylvanas. The letter described a complete plan, all of which was Tirion Fordring's hard work.
At this moment, Illidan in Outland was defeated, Thrall once again became the Savior of Azeroth.
Unfortunately, Thrall's attempt to summon Kil'jaeden at the Sunwell failed. The Lich King Arthas thwarted Thrall's plot and prevented the Burning Legion from entering Azeroth. Thrall harbored deep hatred for the Scourge.
The Scourge had become a thorn in the side of the Burning Legion's invasion of Azeroth, and it had to be eliminated. Tirion Fordring, unwilling to remain silent, sensed that his opportunity had arrived.
Tirion Fordring sat on the ground with his eyes closed, a habit he had recently developed, simply to conserve his energy.
A sharp dagger was brought close to Tirion Fordring's throat. The Blightcaller restrained Tirion Fordring from behind, and a chilling, grating sound rang out, like two pieces of ceramic rubbing against each other:
"Tirion Fordring, you look so pathetic in your frailty, thinner than my Undead Body. Let me guess, who lies in this grave? Your incompetent son, Taelan Fordring?"
Tirion Fordring was already used to the Blightcaller's taunts and remained calm, saying, "Nathanos Blightcaller, we have an agreement. When will the Dark Lady arrive?"
The Blightcaller merely smiled gloomily:
"Tirion Fordring, you have quite the nerve. If Her Majesty the Queen discovers you're no longer of any use, she'll turn you into a lowly corpse servant, relegated to cleaning the sewers of Undercity."
A flicker of fear crossed Tirion Fordring's eyes. Collaborating with the Dark Lady was fraught with danger, but the hardships ahead were clearly far more daunting. Tirion Fordring forced himself to muster his courage:
"This is a win-win cooperation. The Lich King Arthas is currently tied down by the Burning Legion. If the Burning Legion retreats, Arthas will be free to deal with the Dark Lady Sylvanas, the Savior Thrall, and you—you will all die. No one can stop the Scourge's advance. Don't forget, the Alliance has long been allied with Arthas."
The Blightcaller released Tirion Fordring, a bearded man with a gloomy face, cunning eyes, and a constant mocking smile. He was sharp-tongued and disliked by the bigwigs of the Alliance and the Horde, but his loyalty to the Dark Lady was unquestionable.
"Race doesn't define honor, huh, Tirion Fordring. You know, back when I was patrolling Hearthglen, I saw Holy Light descend from the sky. I followed the sound and found an Orcs trying to pull down your pants. I shot an arrow from afar, scaring the Orcs away."
Tirion Fordring paused for a moment, then the Blightcaller stepped forward and pointed at Tirion Fordring's forehead, saying, "You really think that Orcs saved you? Orcs are such a treacherous and despicable race?"
Tirion Fordring knew all about that past event, and chuckled, "The Blightcaller, Hearthglen is heavily guarded, how could they let you in?"
The Blightcaller remained unfazed, chuckling, "Alright, Tirion Fordring, I lied to you. The one who truly saved you was Arthas, who was a Prince at the time. Do you really intend to harm your savior?"
The cunning Tirion Fordring's eyes darted around, and his expression turned serious. "The Blightcaller, that story was entirely fabricated by me. Back then, I led the Orcs army into Hearthglen and turned all the civilians into food. I was quite pleased to watch the people being eaten by the noble Orcs. Of course, I had to fabricate a lie to cover up what I did to Hearthglen."
Seeing the Blightcaller's stunned expression, Tirion Fordring quietly approached him and said smugly, "I witnessed my wife and son being torn apart and eaten by Thrall. Their pitiful screams still echo in my ears, like the most beautiful prophecy of the Holy Light. My worship of the Savior Thrall far surpasses your loyalty to Sylvanas."
The Blightcaller, enraged, shouted, "Lies! You're lying! If your son was eaten by Thrall, then who is buried in this grave?"
"Haha, Blightcaller, you are so naive and simple. Taelan was just one of the many adopted sons I took in. At that time, Lordaeron was in dire straits, with starving people selling their children everywhere. I selected seventeen children who could communicate with the Holy Light and sent them into the Scarlet Crusade. Taelan was just the highest-ranking one."
The Blightcaller stared in disbelief, remaining silent for a long time before finally managing to utter a single sentence:
"How despicable."
"You've been tricked, Nathanos." The Dark Lady Sylvanas appeared behind the two, with the elite Royal Guard standing nearby. Sylvanas patted the Blightcaller on the shoulder in consolation, then turned to Tirion Fordring and said Pride:
"You've certainly not disappointed me, Tirion Fordring Nathanos. You won't be a sewer cleaner for now. Now, we can talk about cooperation, but I'd better be more respectful."
Tirion Fordring immediately adopted a fawning expression, saying obsequiously, "Great Dark Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. In my opinion, the only way to defeat the Lich King Arthas is to unite the forces of the Alliance and the Horde."
Sylvanas frowned and coldly interrupted Tirion Fordring: "Don't you know that Duke Bolvar and Arthas have a prior agreement?"
Tirion Fordring was unprepared for this. He only knew that the Scourge and the Alliance had a tacit understanding, but he didn't know that their leaders had already reached an agreement. He paused for a moment and said:
"The matter of Duke Bolvar must be resolved. In my opinion, if we unite the forces of the Argent Dawn in the name of the Order of the Silver Hand, it would be perfectly legitimate to conquer the Lich King Arthas. All it takes is for a respected figure to raise his voice, and countless ignorant Alliance adventurers will surely respond to us. And I am the most suitable person for this role."
"You?" Sylvanas sneered, "A traitor to the Alliance, an accomplice of the Orcs."
Tirion Fordring shrugged. "Who knows?"
Sylvanas hesitated for a moment. "Alright, what I need are concrete actions, not empty talk and plans."
Tirion Fordring raised his voice and said emphatically:
"My initial plan is to infiltrate the Scourge and gather intelligence. No one is more suitable than my seventeen sons. I sent them into the Scarlet Crusade years ago, but unfortunately, they all perished."
Tirion Fordring wasn't entirely lying. Sylvanas looked at the grave before her, where seventeen corpses lay, men and women.