Governing a Great Nation Is Like Cooking a Small Fish

Arthas knelt on the ground in agony, blood streaming from his eyes, wailing incessantly.

Robbie was pale, trembling, and heartbroken. He jumped into the pit and carefully examined the human bones.

It was cleaned very thoroughly, with almost no meat residue. In some places, you could see obvious teeth marks, as if it had been torn apart by a large carnivore. I wonder which greedy creature did it.

"Without a doubt, the murderer is Orcs."

Robbie's voice was cold, his lips trembling, and he had never been so angry.

Throughout human history, there have been tragedies of massacres, mostly stemming from anger during war or considerations of the strategic situation. After all, the purpose of human warfare is conquest, not slaughter.

What Robbie saw before him was an Order, purposeful slaughter, no different from the slaughter of cattle, sheep, pigs, and chickens, solely to satisfy a person's appetite.

Moreover, they knew how to cover up the traces after the massacre.

The only place capable of achieving this level of sophistication is a certain concentration camp from World War II.

"Look, the people of Brill are crowding around me."

Arthas fell into a state of confusion, his eyes temporarily losing focus. Overwhelmed by grief and the relentless blows, a strange power awakened within him:

"A mother holding her baby, a lovely little girl, an old man leaning on a cane, a simple farmer—they were telling me the tragic story. The Paladins of the Silver Hand lured the townspeople here, then they were surrounded by hundreds of Orcs, and then..."

Arthas couldn't continue speaking; his face twitched violently, and he could only mutter softly.

"This is a blood feud, an intolerable war crime, a blatant betrayal. I will settle accounts with them, I will make the murderers pay the price."

"Prince Arthas, calm down, there's absolutely no point in doing this."

Robbie sighed, "The Orcs will always find excuses; that's the price of war. They can always find a good reason. And don't forget the Guardians."

"Guardian Medivh."

Arthas gritted his teeth in hatred, but the hatred didn't cloud his judgment. He touched the blood on his face and said, "I knew all along that Father's choice was wrong. We clearly had better options."

"A better option?"

"It's Deathwing," Arthas whispered.

"Deathwing disguised himself as a human nobleman and made contact with the King, initially gaining his trust. Deathwing's request was simple: he wanted to obtain a portion of the Orcs for his experiments, hoping to transform Orcs into Dragon Orcs. If his wish was granted, Lordaeron would receive the protection of the Black Dragonflight. Unfortunately, someone interfered. The mages of Dalaran protested to the King, saying it was inhumane and that intelligent beings should not be treated so cruelly."

"Look at Brill, the poor people of Lordaeron! When they were being slaughtered, where were the mages of Dalaran who stood up for Justice? Who spoke out for the innocent people? Who would seek justice for these poor souls? Dalaran Mages, those hypocritical bastards! They are all lackeys of the Guardians, the most despicable scoundrels."

"Politics is dirty, Prince Arthas. Behind all the high-sounding morality and righteousness lies nothing but hypocritical greed and desire, and naked transactions."

Robbie recalled the tragedy of Theramore. After the Focusing Iris destroyed Theramore, the mages of Dalaran continued their revelry and never considered punishing the Orcs. Even when Jaina became the leader of Dalaran, it was merely a formality.

In the minds of the Dalaran Mages, it was only natural for Orcs to raise their knives against humans.

"If we had chosen Deathwing, this tragedy wouldn't have happened," Arthas said sorrowfully.

"You're wrong, Arthas." Robbie gazed at the dim night sky, lost in thought.

Humans are lazy creatures; they prefer using their hands to their brains.

Azeroth is a super-magical world with all sorts of strange and wondrous powers. In this world, intelligent life prefers to act and rarely resorts to scheming or trickery.

Robbie believed his schemes couldn't compare to those of the brilliant schemers of antiquity.

But in Azeroth, a world where political wisdom is still in its infancy, Robbie felt his view was quite good.

"Choosing Deathwing might not yield good results; it could very well end up the same way," Robbie shook his head and said.

"No matter which choice you make, it will be wrong. Only by being adept at navigating the complexities of the situation and maintaining a balance of power can you hope to survive. Governing a large country is like cooking a small fish; politics is a game played on the edge of a knife."

Robbie looked at Arthas, that young and innocent face, and felt a pang of disappointment. The moral education of Paladin was correct, but it seemed unsuitable for this terrible, chaotic world.

Such a complex conspiracy is incredibly difficult to execute; even Arthas and his father would likely struggle to manage it. A single misstep could have led to utter defeat and a tragic end.

Arthas fell into melancholy; he was young and inexperienced, unable to digest this not-so-profound wisdom.

"Prince Arthas, true wisdom lies not in solving problems when they arise, but in grasping the big picture, staying away from danger, and preventing difficulties from approaching. Think carefully, what caused Lordaeron to fall into this dilemma where it must make a choice?"

"Damn Orcs," Arthas said viciously.

Robbie nodded. "There's a saying in my hometown: 'A common man is innocent, but possessing a treasure is a crime.' A young child carrying Epic weapon in a bustling marketplace is bound to be harmed. The Orcs... that Epic weapon... if I'm not mistaken, King Terenas also harbors ambitions towards the Orcs, doesn't he?"

Arthas remained silent for a while, and though unwilling, he finally nodded.

In the history of Azeroth, only Emperor Thoradin of the Kingdom of Arathor unified humanity. Afterwards, the Kingdom of Arathor split into the Seven Kingdoms, with Lordaeron being just one of them.

It is estimated that every human King harbors the ambition to recreate the glory of Emperor Thoradin.

The Orcs possessed astonishing combat power. Lordaeron paid a heavy price to defeat the fearsome Orcs, with almost an entire generation of young people dying on the Battlefield.

If we can control the Orcs and firmly grasp this terrifying Legion for our own use, then unifying the human kingdoms will no longer be a dream, and we might even be able to conquer all of Azeroth.

This was probably King Terenas's original intention in establishing the Orcs internment camp.

Unfortunately, the Epic weapon Deathwing and Guardian Medivh.

Arthas sat limply on the ground, clutching his hair.

"My father did have that idea, but when he discovered that maintaining the Orcs internment camp required an astronomical amount of gold, he gave up. He originally intended to slaughter all the Orcs or send them back to their homeland, but unfortunately, the Guardian Medivh arrived."

Medivh told his father that the Orcs' formidable fighting power was a resource that could bring Lordaeron a continuous source of income. But then the Orcs suddenly weakened. The mages of Dalaran came to investigate and offered many explanations—depletion of Demon Blood, disease, and so on—but none of them seemed to make sense. Then, a Mage Apprentice discovered a remarkably simple truth: the Orcs had to eat meat.

"Later, Medivh, together with the four Dragon Kings, defeated Deathwing, and he finally revealed his true colors. First, he said that the Orcs were rational and intelligent beings who should be equal to the people of Lordaeron. Then he said that the Orcs were the Saviors of Azeroth and should enjoy the land of Lordaeron. After that, it's unknown what he would say."

Robbie's expression was cold as he said in a chilling voice:

"After that, the people of Lordaeron were forced to leave their homes and seek a living in Kalimdor across the sea."

Arthas was stunned. "Is this going to completely destroy Lordaeron?"

Healing himself with Holy Light, Arthas's eyes gradually returned to normal, and he finally calmed down.

"When I was little, I saw Orcs in Orcs internment camp. Mothers held their babies and hummed songs; they looked no different from humans."

Robbie laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face.

"What are you laughing at?" Arthas, puzzled.

"My dear Prince, you are too naive. Why don't we meet the real Orcs?"